La Femme Serena
by Aglaia Lethe
Summary: When Serena is suddenly thrown into the deadly world of espionage, she struggles to reconcile her conscience with her job as a secret agent. Can she find love amidst this dark and dangerous world? Based on Luc Besson's "La Femme Nikita."
1. Enter The Bunny

Title: La Femme Serena  
Author: Aglaia  
Date Created: Aug. 9, 2003  
Date Modified: May 31, 2004  
  
Disclaimer: I own neither Sailor Moon, nor La   
Femme Nikita. Sailor Moon and La Femme Nikita   
belong to Naoko, Luc, DiC, TOEI, USA Networks,   
Warner Bros., and a bunch of other very rich and   
very lucky people. Those characters and scenarios   
appear without permission. This standard   
disclaimer applies to the rest of the story.  
  
' ' = thoughts  
  
---  
  
Chapter 1: Enter the Bunny  
  
Huddled behind a dumpster in the corner of a   
dark alley, a small figure slumped against the wall.   
The alley was full of shadows, unbroken by the   
moonlight, making the figure almost invisible to   
the casual observer. Illuminated for a moment by   
the wide arc of a beam of headlights, the shrunken   
figure resolved itself into the shape of a young   
woman. The woman clasped her clothes around   
herself, shivering from the sub-zero temperatures.   
Barely visible beneath the grime that came from   
living on the streets was a heart-shaped face whose   
sweet smile could usually charm some change from   
passers-by. A lock of greasy, matted blond hair   
peeked out from under several layers of beat-up,   
hole-ridden, dirty hats. A closer look might have   
revealed a stunning pair of blue eyes whose   
intensity was undimmed by the drug use that was so   
common in street-life; however, few people in this   
day and age were willing to give her a closer look.  
  
Her stomach contracted painfully, reminding   
her that it had been a long time since she had   
scarfed down that half-eaten sandwich the night   
before. During the course of the day, she had   
managed to amass several dollars from panhandling,   
a small fortune for her. But she knew she should   
be saving it for the long winter ahead of her.   
There would be days when it would be just too cold   
to stay on the streets to beg - days when more than   
an hour or two in the inclement weather could lead   
to frostbite or even hypothermia. If she were to   
survive this winter, she needed to save her money   
for blankets. Even better, if she managed to save   
enough, she might be able to afford the luxury of   
luxuries - a sleeping bag.  
  
The winters were growing steadily worse year   
by year, and people were less and less inclined to   
generosity. Too often she had watched people walk   
past her outstretched hands and pleading words   
without even a second glance. There were days when   
even her relatively child-like appearance no longer   
evoked much sympathy.  
  
With all the things she was likely to need   
her money for, she knew she shouldn't spend it on   
food. But as her thoughts continued to dwell on the   
prospect of eating, she could no longer ignore the   
hunger pangs. Her stomach growling, she curled up   
in a semi-fetal position. "Shut-up," she grumbled   
almost inaudibly. "There's no food," she told   
herself for the millionth time but couldn't prevent   
herself from imagining a steak dinner with grilled   
vegetables, topped off with a piece of warm apple   
pie with a crust so flaky it crumbled in your mouth.   
She began salivating at the thought of such a feast.   
  
Finally, driven to distraction by her nagging   
hunger, she stumbled out of the alleyway she called   
home and into the darkened street. She forced her   
stiff and weary limbs to function and propelled   
herself through the night towards the flickering   
neon lights of the 24-hour convenience store. The   
dismally tawdry windows plastered with layers of   
faded and cheesy advertisements were like a beacon,   
calling her in from the cold. Undismayed by the   
hostile glares from the cashier, she steadied her   
emaciated body with one hand along the wall and   
followed her nose to the hotdogs rotating under a   
heat-lamp.   
  
"Hey!" yelled the cashier. "Do you have money  
or what?"  
  
She mumbled an incoherent response, but her   
gaze remained firmly fixed on the juicy hotdogs.  
  
"Buy somethin' or get out! It's that simple!"  
  
Suddenly overcome by her hunger, the girl's   
gaunt figure could no longer support her, and she   
collapsed in a dead faint.  
  
"Shit!" exclaimed the cashier. "Now I gotta   
carry this garbage outside. I shoulda known she   
didn't have any cash!"   
  
The cashier was about to step from behind the   
counter when a man wearing grungy clothes and a   
dark ski-mask ran into the store past the   
unconscious body of the girl. Not giving her a   
second glance, the obviously inexperienced gunman   
shot out the prominently displayed security cameras   
in a blaze of loud gunfire and then aimed his   
weapon at the store clerk.  
  
"The money from the register into a plastic   
bag! NOW!!" His agitated voice was slightly   
muffled by the mask pulled over his face.  
  
Almost unfazed by the semi-automatic handgun   
trained upon him, the clerk calmly stepped back   
behind the register and opened it. Hold-ups were   
a regular occurrence in this neighborhood, and the   
cashier had already survived two such attempts.   
He quietly began filling a plastic bag with the   
money, biding his time until he could press the   
panic button without being seen.   
  
"Faster! Faster!" yelled the robber.  
  
A car sped by on the street outside,   
momentarily distracting the attention of the   
gunman. This was the opportunity the cashier was   
waiting for; he paused from filling the bag just   
long enough to reach the panic button underneath   
the counter.  
  
"C'mon, c'mon! Let's go!!"  
  
As the hold-up continued, the gunman began   
darting his eyes nervously around the store. It   
was at that point that a bell chimed, signaling the   
entrance of someone into the store. The sound of   
the door opening startled both the cashier and the   
robber.  
  
Two uniformed police officers entered,   
chatting loudly. They seemed oblivious to the   
situation and headed in a leisurely fashion towards   
the snacks. The cashier was trying to puzzle out   
how the cops had arrived so quickly to his summons,   
while the gunman, now sweating profusely, tried to   
shield his gun from sight with his body.  
  
One of the police officers noticed the body   
of the girl lying prone on the ground, and it   
finally began to dawn on him that something was   
amiss.  
  
"Hey!" he said, pointing her out to his   
partner. He bent down to check for a pulse.   
"What's going on here?"  
  
At that point, the robber lost his head.   
What had been a simple hold-up had quickly gone   
very bad for him. He had been in jail before, and   
he was damned if he was going to go back.  
  
The robber turned quickly and began shooting   
at the two police officers. They were taken by   
surprise and one was hit several times as the other   
dove for cover behind the chips display.   
  
"Gotcha, you motherfuckers!" the robber all   
but screamed triumphantly. By his way of thinking,   
two less cops in the world would make it a better   
place. He determinedly continued to spray his   
bullets wildly.  
  
The remaining police officer began to return   
fire and radioed for backup. The robber knew he   
was trapped. Everything was screwed up. But he   
wasn't going back to jail. Never again would he   
submit to that hell. And he wasn't going to let   
this pig cop live. With these thoughts in mind, he   
joined the cashier behind the counter and pumped   
the clerk's head full of bullets.  
  
Meanwhile, the police officer reached out to   
try and drag the unconscious girl to safety.   
Leaning too far from his cover, he was struck   
multiple times by the next wave of bullets launched   
by the gunman from behind the register.  
  
Quickly, before more police could arrive, the   
gunman grabbed the half-full bag of cash the clerk   
had been filling and ran towards the door. He   
paused momentarily when he saw the body of the girl,   
miraculously untouched by the violence of the   
gunfight. Struck with an idea that would prevent   
the police from coming after him, he placed his gun   
in her hand and dragged her toward the cash   
register before making his getaway into the night.

---  
  
The girl, known as Serena, gradually regained   
consciousness. It was dark and musty. She rubbed   
her eyes blearily, but came awake suddenly as she   
noticed a man in a dark suit standing over her.   
She quickly sat up and backed away from him,   
finally noticing that she was in a cell of some   
sort. He was tall, with a long ponytail and a mop   
of unruly black curls which didn't seem to want to   
behave. His mussed hair seemed at odds with the   
rest of his pressed-to-perfection appearance.   
Dressed in an obviously expensive suit - a black   
shirt and tie, and shiny black dress shoes - this   
man exuded power, but a diamond studded earring in   
his left ear suggested a hint of wildness. He had   
a handsome, if somewhat roguish, face, and despite   
her confusion and fear, the girl found him very   
attractive. A guard stood outside the metal bars   
that confined her to her cell; he had his back   
turned and was oblivious to what was happening   
inside.   
  
"Who are you? Where am I?" she asked   
nervously.  
  
"You're in prison." Completely ignoring her   
first question, he stared intently into her eyes.   
  
Her eyes widened in shock, "What am I doing   
here?"  
  
"You don't remember?" the man smiled   
sardonically. "I find that difficult to believe."  
  
"What's that supposed to mean?"  
  
The man in the dark suit continued blithely as   
if he hadn't heard her remark, "Why don't you try   
that one on your lawyer. An insanity plea might   
be the only thing that will help you now."  
  
Now he had made her mad. Not only was his   
tone insulting, but his cryptic answers were more   
frustrating than informative. "What are you   
talking about?!"   
  
The fire within her that had helped her to   
survive for so long on the streets now sprung up.   
Serena didn't anger easily, but when she got mad,   
steam blew from her ears. This guy was baiting her   
deliberately, taunting her in an almost childish   
manner. Who the heck died and crowned him the king   
of self-righteous?? She looked at him   
challengingly and didn't flinch from his gaze.  
  
The man read the expression in her eyes with   
satisfaction and smiled, "See you after the trial."   
With that one last enigmatic remark, he left, and   
the door to her jail cell clanged shut with a   
frightening finality.

---  
  
It was as if that man's skepticism had been a   
portent of what was to come next. When she finally   
heard the full recounting of what had happened in   
the convenience store, she had been shocked. She   
was no murderess. But no one seemed to believe her.   
After repeating her story over and over again, she   
began to lose hope. She became numb, recognizing   
the futility of banging her head against a wall.  
  
Throughout the visits from the court-  
appointed lawyer and the trial, she had barely   
even registered her surroundings. Events passed in   
a whirlwind that didn't sink in for her at all.   
She sat through the speedy trial and felt outside   
of herself, as if everything were happening to   
someone else. The sentencing, especially, had a   
surreal quality to it, and she had listened to it   
without even blinking.  
  
"Serena Arroway, you have been found guilty   
of attempted robbery and two counts of first degree   
murder. Your unconscionable actions have caused   
the deaths of two distinguished police officers.   
The total lack of remorse you have displayed in   
this courtroom leaves me with no choice but to   
conclude that you are a cold-blooded murderer. I   
hereby sentence you to death by lethal injection.   
May God have mercy on your soul."  
  
The banging of the judge's gavel finally   
seemed to wake her up.  
  
"You don't understand! I didn't do   
anything!!" she screamed. "I'm innocent! You   
have to believe me!"   
  
She had pleaded, but to no avail. As the   
bailiffs dragged her out, she saw the man in the   
dark suit among the spectators in the courtroom.   
When she was being thrust once again into the   
darkness of her cell, she remembered the look in   
his eyes as they followed her.

---  
  
A group of eleven men and women dressed in   
dark power suits sat behind a long table in the   
semi-darkness. The man with the diamond-studded   
earring walked briskly into the room, stopped   
under the spotlight, and saluted the others   
crisply.   
  
"Agent Star, have you assessed the new   
recruit?" one of the eleven asked.  
  
"Yes, sir. I have reviewed her dossier   
and evaluated her in person. I believe she has   
great potential," Seiya replied.  
  
"Recommendations?" another of the eleven   
demanded.  
  
"I suggest that we move ahead with the   
operation and begin training as soon as possible."  
  
"Approved."  
  
---  
  
AN: My fic is based on Luc Besson's "La Femme   
Nikita," John Badham's "Point of No Return," and   
USA Network's "La Femme Nikita" (the latter two   
were based on Luc Besson's screenplay, which was   
in turn inspired by Bernard Shaw's "Pygmalion").  
  
I realize the convenience store hold-up and   
subsequent court conviction stretches the realm of   
believability. The courts took a very hard line   
on her because two police officers died, and they   
wanted to hold someone responsible. I wanted   
Serena to be sentenced to death while still being   
an innocent. My deepest apologies for abusing my   
creative license and for any errors I might have   
made.   
  
For those die-hard Mamoru fans, don't worry!   
Mamoru will have a big part to play later in this   
fic.   
  
Next chapter: Serena's initiation into the   
shadowy organization.  
  
If you've got questions, concerns, or   
comments, feel free to e-mail me:   
aglaia044yahoo.com. Don't forget to drop me a   
review!!  
  
Aglaia


	2. The Recruit

La Femme Serena  
by Aglaia  
  
---  
  
Chapter 2: The Recruit  
  
Serena stared unblinking at the ceiling as   
she was strapped down on a long metal table.   
Technicians and guards milled around the room,   
checking equipment, attaching sensors to her skin,   
and preparing the medical supplies. Once she was   
secured to the table, the guards stepped back to   
stand next to the door of the small room. A nurse   
double-checked the needles and pronounced   
everything ready for the final lethal injection.   
The ugly green curtain was drawn back to reveal a   
window for the witnesses and spectators. Serena   
recognized only one person: the man with the   
diamond-studded earring. She locked eyes with him   
and blocked out everything else.   
  
Staring at the man with the earring, Serena   
realized that there would be no call from the   
Premier, ordering a stay of execution. Coming to   
grips with the finality of her situation, Serena   
thought about all the things she had yet to   
experience. For a twenty-two year-old, she was   
surprisingly innocent. She had yet to have her   
first kiss, her first date, her first love. She   
had spent most of her life in hiding or on the   
run; occupied with the struggle for survival from   
day to day, there hadn't been time for luxuries   
such as feelings and friendship. However, Serena   
had secretly cherished an image of having a loving   
family and had vowed to one day make it happen.   
But now, it looked like her dream would go   
unfulfilled. Silently, as she continued to stare   
at the man with the earring, she acknowledged all   
her regrets. One single tear crept down her face.  
  
The seconds on the clock ticked away, and   
the time came for them to give her the final,   
fatal injection. A nurse rubbed down a spot on   
her forearm with a cotton swab and alcohol; the   
nurse then inserted the IV drip into her arm.   
Another nurse placed the needle into a small tube   
attached to the IV and depressed the plunger.   
Serena stared at the man with the earring, and her   
vision became hazy as her pupils dilated.   
Gradually, her eyes closed, and the monitor flat-  
lined.

---  
  
Serena groggily opened her eyes. At first,   
all she saw was white. Confused, she slowly sat up   
and found herself in a sterile, but spacious room.   
Everything in it was snow white: white walls, white   
floors, white sheets, and white doors.   
  
Was this heaven? Or was this hell? She was   
dead, wasn't she? The last thing she remembered   
was being given that injection. She had been   
strapped down to an operating table, feeling like   
she had been stripped of her hope, and then...   
  
Nothing.  
  
It was funny that she didn't remember what   
dying had felt like. None of the usual   
descriptions seemed familiar. She didn't remember   
pain, or joy, or floating above her body, or even   
seeing a light she was supposed to walk towards.   
Serena felt a little annoyed that such a momentous   
event had passed without her having any   
recollection of it at all.  
  
And now she was here, wherever "here" was.   
How did she get here? What was she supposed to do?  
  
Not knowing what else to do, she took a   
closer look around her. She was dressed in a white   
gown, the type used by hospitals. The only   
furniture in the room was the bed on which she was   
lying. It had a metallic frame and a sleek,   
futuristic design. Halogen lights from the high   
ceiling above her brightly lighted the room.   
Before she had much time to assess her   
surroundings, the door opened.  
  
"You!"   
  
The man with the earring walked in, wearing   
yet another dark, designer suit.  
  
She wasn't dead. She hadn't died.   
  
The first thing Serena felt was relief. Joy   
flooded through her. She still had a chance, a   
chance to do all the things she had dreamed about.   
She felt like dancing. She felt like singing. She   
felt -   
  
"We meet again, Serena."  
  
The handsome man's words broke into her   
jubilant thoughts, bringing her back to reality   
like a slap in the face.  
  
"What happened? What am I doing here? Who   
ARE you??" Serena exclaimed impatiently.  
  
Agent Star looked Serena up and down. In his   
mind, he acknowledged that cleaned up she was . . .   
well, pretty. Even in the plain white hospital   
gown, her pale skin shone. She had an ethereal   
beauty that was undiminished by the gauntness of   
her figure, nor by the austere environment. Her   
thick, golden hair appeared to have been cropped   
short with a blunt knife; the ragged ends hung   
limply around her sweet, heart-shaped face.  
  
"My name is Seiya. I'm an agent for Project   
Eleven." He watched carefully for her reaction to   
the name of his organization. However, her puzzled  
expression remained unchanged, so he was pleased to   
conclude that it held no meaning for her. If it   
had, measures would have been taken to assure that   
she never heard it again...  
  
"I'm sure you'll be happy to learn that your   
execution was faked." At Serena's blank look of   
incomprehension, he continued, "Don't get me wrong;   
Serena Arroway IS dead. Would you like to see   
some pictures of your funeral?"   
  
As if unaware of the bombshell he had just   
dropped on the unsuspecting Serena, Seiya calmly   
tossed some glossy photos on her bed. "And my   
particular favorite: this one is a picture of your   
grave. Plot 16, row 12," he said as he tossed   
another photograph at her. "We brought you here   
because we believe you have great potential as an   
agent. It's time you gave back to your country.   
You are here to be trained to work for us."  
  
Serena felt as if someone had pulled the rug   
out from under her, and before she could regain her   
balance, the rug was pulled out again. She was   
falling without any kind of safety net and had   
nothing to hold on to, but somehow she managed to   
choke some words out. "What... What kind of work?"  
  
"All kinds. Surveillance, assassin,   
bodyguard . . . anything and everything," he   
answered blithely as if these were common   
professions.  
  
She had just managed to survive what was   
supposed to be a lethal injection. She had just   
gotten a second chance to live, and they were   
asking her to do this??   
  
"And if I refuse?" Serena asked defiantly,   
her voice returning with the injustice of what she   
was facing. She was finally getting back some of   
that fire.  
  
"Plot 16, row 12."  
  
The implication was inescapable: work for   
them, or die. Not much of a choice in Serena's   
opinion. Anger shot through her at the unfairness   
of Seiya's demands. Give up her life, everything   
in order to work for this Project?   
  
"You can't do this to me!" Serena got out of   
the bed and stood up to face her adversary. "I   
won't let you. You just can't do this!"  
  
Seiya seemed to take her outburst into stride.   
He merely stood up and began to walk away from her.  
  
When he opened the door to leave, Serena   
began to think triumphantly that she had won, but   
his last words dashed her hopes.  
  
"You'll soon learn that I can do whatever I   
want."  
  
With that parting promise, he closed the door   
behind him, shutting her in once again.

---  
  
Serena lay in bed again, staring at the   
ceiling above her. It had been some time since   
Seiya had left her here to stew in her own juices.   
Since no one had come to kill her, she could only   
assume that they were giving her some time to think   
things over.  
  
Because there were no windows or outside   
sounds and because the lights never dimmed, Serena   
had no way to gauge the passing of time. She had   
no conception of how long she had been left in this   
room, but she knew it had been a long time. It   
felt like an eternity.  
  
In the early stages of her imprisonment, she   
had first pounded on the door. She had yelled and   
screamed, trying to get some sort of response, but   
none had been forthcoming. Then, she had proceeded   
to minutely examine every square inch of her prison,   
searching for some clue to where she was or for   
some way to escape. Unfortunately, her exhaustive   
investigation had yielded nothing beyond the   
obvious: she was trapped in this prison of white,   
trapped until they decided to let her out.  
  
Gradually, as her choices had narrowed and   
her energies had been spent, she laid herself down   
on the bed to do some thinking. Just thinking and   
staring at the ceiling, which is what she had been   
doing for what seemed like hours now.   
  
As the time stretched into infinity,   
everything began to seem more and more pointless to   
Serena. So what if she rejected this Project,   
whatever it was? They would kill her, and that   
would be that.   
  
Except... she didn't want to die.   
  
She was tough. After all her time spent   
living on the rough and dangerous streets, she had   
survived. After all the curve balls life had   
thrown at her, she had survived. And she could   
survive this too, dammit!   
  
She had come in for more than her fair share   
of hard knocks, she thought indignantly. What had   
she done to deserve them? Well, she wouldn't take   
it any more. She decided angrily that she wouldn't   
let anyone walk all over her - not God or Fate, not   
this Seiya, and certainly not his precious Project.   
She was going to let them have it. If they wanted   
her, they were going to have her. All of her.  
  
"I won't go down without a fight!" she yelled   
at the blank walls of the room. "Do you hear me,   
you bastards? I won't go down!"  
  
Before the sound of her voice had finished   
echoing around the empty room, the lock on the door   
clicked, and it opened as if she had spoken the   
magic words.  
  
The handsome Seiya walked in wearing a smug   
grin, not saying a word.  
  
Serena glared at him resentfully. She was   
silent for a few minutes before she asked, "What   
kind of training?"

---  
  
BAM!  
  
The muffled smack of leather on leather   
echoed in the training area. Her breathing   
labored, Serena was sweating heavily as she worked   
out against a physical trainer. Feinting left   
while bobbing up and down, Serena launched an   
uppercut with her right glove to the protective   
padding the instructor held.   
  
It had been over five weeks since she had   
agreed to join Project Eleven and begun her   
physical training. In addition to the rigorous   
weight training regimen her instructor implemented   
for her, she also studied with other instructors,   
practicing not only the traditional eastern   
martial arts like karate, jiu jitsu, kung fu, and   
tae kwon do, but also the more modern western   
fighting techniques such as fencing, wrestling,   
and street-fighting.   
  
But her lessons didn't end there. Aside from   
the hard forms of martial arts, she even learned   
soft forms such as tai chi in order to refine her   
focus and her breathing techniques. Boxing was   
merely her most recent set of lessons. The   
grueling physical pace set by her instructors was   
putting her in the best shape she had ever been in.   
Combined with regular, healthy meals, Serena's body   
was actually filling out.  
  
Finishing with a series of feints, dodges,   
and quick jabs, Serena perfectly executed the   
newest combination the instructor had been showing   
her.  
  
"Good! It's looking good, Serena. That's   
enough for today," said Amara, the boxing   
instructor. "See you tomorrow, same time."  
  
Glowing from the exertion and the praise,   
Serena took off her gloves and unwrapped her   
hands. She put away her equipment quickly and   
efficiently as she had been taught to do. "Ok.   
Thanks, Amara."  
  
Amara was easily one of Serena's favorite   
instructors. They often sparred together, with   
Amara showing her new techniques in self-defense   
and in various forms of martial arts. Amara's   
short, dusty blond hair and rough, tomboyish   
attitude often misled people into thinking she was   
a he; Amara didn't seem to mind, and often   
encouraged this belief. Her tall, lean frame and   
excellence in all things physical also enhanced   
this image. Amara was refreshingly genuine and   
made no apologies for the way she was. In many   
ways, Serena thought of her as a role model.   
  
The two had bonded over their training   
sessions, but that didn't mean that Amara ever   
went easy on Serena. When Serena complained of   
the aches and bruises Amara sometimes inflicted,   
Amara would simply say, "Better from me now, than   
from an enemy out in the field. I'd rather you   
not learn things the hard way, bunny." Then,   
Amara would proceed to work Serena even harder.   
It was this obvious concern for Serena's well-  
being that endeared her to Serena. For the first   
time in a long time, someone actually cared about   
her, and it felt good!  
  
Serena gathered her things and headed out of   
the training area. After her "execution" and   
subsequent rebirth, she still had yet to set foot   
outside the underground complex where she lived   
and trained. She had no idea where it was   
located, but most of the time, Serena was kept too   
busy to care much about that.   
  
She was still angry that they had all but   
hijacked her into this Project, but she couldn't   
deny that she liked her new life. She liked the   
physical activity, the chance to learn new things,   
the challenge of it all. She especially liked the   
part where she was allowed to eat as much as she   
liked.   
  
The thought of food caused her stomach to   
rumble as she headed towards her room, and she   
promised herself a big meal once she had showered.  
  
The complex was designed as a series of   
concentric circles around an operations center in   
the middle. Hallways branched out from the   
operations center and led to the other circles   
like spokes on a wheel. It was easy to determine   
one's place in the Project's hierarchy: the closer   
you were located to the operations center, the   
more important you were.   
  
There were several levels within the complex;   
one level for physical and weapons training, one   
for habitation, another for scientific laboratories,   
a fourth for Intel, and several others to which   
Serena had no access. There were locks and access   
codes required for moving anywhere within the   
complex; you couldn't walk ten feet without having   
to clear your access with a fingerprint scan,   
access card, or security code. All these redundant   
security measures spoke tellingly of the paranoid   
environment of the complex.  
  
Serena stepped into an elevator after   
pressing her right index finger on a scanning pad.   
The doors opened and she spoke aloud,   
"Habitation." The doors closed, and the elevator   
immediately began moving.   
  
The complex was a bustling place. There   
were probably hundreds of personnel working within   
the complex, but in all the time she had been   
there, Serena had actually been introduced to only   
a handful. The atmosphere of purpose, power, and   
secrecy that permeated the place discouraged   
friendliness and interaction. For example, there   
were no cafeterias where people could engage   
socially while eating. All meals were pre-prepared   
and sent individually to each room. Everything was   
run on a tight schedule and interpersonal relations   
were discouraged.   
  
Serena felt lucky that she had bonded with   
Amara, but she knew exactly to what degree their   
friendship extended. Amara was her instructor.   
That was all. Serena knew better than to expect   
Amara to go out on a limb for her. This didn't   
upset her; it was merely a product of the   
impersonal environment of the complex. Although   
she had never experienced much love or affection in   
her life, even Serena noticed its absence now. The   
complete lack of close human interaction in the   
complex registered to her as unusual, but she   
didn't pay it much attention.  
  
The elevator doors slid open, and she walked   
toward her room in the outermost ring of the   
habitation level; all agents-in-training had their   
rooms in the H-ring. Serena was still living in   
the room she had first awoken in, but she had   
thankfully been permitted to decorate it. No   
longer so stark in appearance, the new furniture   
was all done in the same sleek, futuristic design   
as the bed. Colored posters adorned the white   
walls, and odd knickknacks sat on every available   
surface. Serena tossed her gym bag onto her bed   
and grabbed a change of clothes and a towel.   
  
She headed toward the shower in her private   
bathroom. After disrobing, she stepped into the   
stall and turned on the water. She sighed as the   
hot water soothed some of her aching muscles. She   
ran her head under the warm spray and let her hair   
down from its ponytail. Over the past few weeks,   
Serena had allowed her hair to grow, and now it   
hung below her chin in a fashionable   
layered cut. It was the first time in almost six   
years that her hair had been cut by a real,   
professional hairdresser. As she began to lather   
her blonde locks with shampoo, she relaxed and   
thought about her unusual situation.   
  
She still couldn't believe the lengths to   
which the Project had gone just in order to get her   
to join. For all intents and purposes, they had   
killed her! Serena still couldn't quite get over   
that. The Project, whatever else it might be,   
certainly didn't have a problem with murder. And   
that scared her.  
  
However, even though she had been forced into   
it, virtually at gunpoint, and in spite of the cold   
environment, Serena was coming to enjoy her   
training. The diverse physical and mental   
challenges she faced daily made it exciting and   
interesting. Whether it was crash courses in   
computer technology, fencing, or military strategy,   
she found it all exhilarating, and Serena felt   
alive in a way she never had before. Put through   
punishing obstacle courses, and exhaustive language   
studies, they were training her to become the   
perfect operative. 'Compared to this, US Navy Seal   
training must be easy!' she thought reflectively.   
She was so tired at the end of each day that she   
simply fell into bed. On the bright side, she   
seemed to be progressing at an astounding rate.   
'I suppose that's the advantage of having the best   
of the personal and private instructors at your   
beck and call. It's a good thing I'm a fast   
learner.'

---  
  
It was Serena's first day at the shooting   
range, and Seiya had come to watch his newest   
agent-in-training. He stood back where she   
wouldn't see him and watched as Serena, wearing all   
the usual safety equipment, aimed her .45 Beretta   
at the silhouette target set five meters away in   
the firing range. Gripping the weapon with both   
hands the way she had been taught by the instructor,   
Serena positioned herself with no little   
trepidation. Finally, she squeezed the trigger   
and fired.  
  
Bang!  
  
The sound made Serena jump, even through the   
ear protectors, and the force of the recoil almost   
caused her to drop the gun in surprise. She   
fumbled with it in her hands before finally   
recovering the weapon.  
  
"That's okay, Serena," said Yaten, the gray-  
haired instructor. "Just try again. This time,   
remember to keep your grip firm. Hold it with   
both hands."  
  
Wiping the sweat from her hands, she took her  
position again. Yaten helped her adjust her   
stance. She took seven more shots, emptying the   
magazine. Each time Serena fired the gun, she   
flinched instinctively, causing the bullets to fly   
haphazardly. Not one of them struck the target.  
  
Seiya wondered at this, given that Serena had   
managed to use a semi-automatic to kill two police   
officers in the attempted robbery that had brought   
her to the Project's attention. It didn't make   
sense. There was something else going on here.  
  
It continued to bother him as he watched   
Serena practice. Yaten showed her how to reload   
the gun with a new magazine, and Serena tried again.   
This time, two of her rounds struck the target, but   
they were both high and wide.   
  
With Yaten's patient help, she adjusted her   
aim and repeated the exercise. After more than an   
hour of practice, Serena had made a marked   
improvement, but it was still clear that she felt   
ill at ease with the weapon.  
  
A thought began to dawn on Seiya that was   
both incredible and terrifying. Suddenly all the   
pieces fell into place with a click. Serena's   
words when he had visited her in prison, her   
actions at the trial... But... It just wasn't   
possible. He couldn't have made such an enormous   
mistake.  
  
She couldn't have been telling the truth. If   
she had, that would mean that he had recruited the   
wrong person! 'No. It couldn't be,' he tried to   
tell himself, but his mind wouldn't let him dismiss   
the thought.  
  
Serena was innocent.  
  
How could his instincts have been so far off?   
Where had he gone wrong?   
  
'Well,' he thought after some more reflection,   
'Perhaps I wasn't so far off, after all. Just look   
at the way she has bounced back from the execution   
and imprisonment and the way she has adapted to her   
new life here. No, I wasn't so wrong about   
recruiting Serena.'   
  
He would just have to continue with her   
training. If the Project ever found out the truth   
about Serena, they would not hesitate to eliminate   
her.   
  
Who was he kidding? They would cancel her in   
a second.   
  
The Project could never learn of his mistake.   
Not just for his own sake, but for Serena's also.   
They WOULD never learn of it. He vowed to make   
sure of that by turning Serena into the best agent   
the Project had ever seen.   
  
To that end, Seiya went now to speak with   
Yaten. The instructor was reserved and a bit   
stodgy, but he was by far the best marksman and   
gunsmith in the Project. If anyone could turn   
Serena into a good shot, Yaten could.  
  
Signaling the instructor away from where   
Serena continued to practice - now with a Colt .45   
Defender - Seiya addressed him quietly.  
  
"Yaten, what do you think you can do with   
her?"  
  
"Well, she's certainly a lot less proficient   
than the other recruits I've seen," said Yaten in   
his slow and deliberate voice, as if weighing each   
word before he spoke it.  
  
Seiya winced internally. Would it be   
possible? Would Yaten be able to cover up for his   
error?  
  
"But I think there's potential there," Yaten   
continued to Seiya's relief. "She just has to get   
over her discomfort with guns. I think that with   
time and practice, I can make the weapons so   
familiar and comfortable to her that they will seem   
almost like an extension of her own body. I'll put   
her on an intensive training regimen. Starting   
today, she'll have to be here every day, firing at   
least 200 rounds of ammunition each practice   
session."   
  
"Fine. I'll make sure that she's here. Oh,   
and ah, Yaten," said Seiya, lowering his voice to   
just above a whisper. "I would appreciate it if   
you would handle this ... personally. Report   
directly to me on this matter."  
  
After giving it some thought, Yaten nodded   
his head slowly.  
  
At Yaten's nod, Seiya continued delicately,   
"And of course, there's no need to mention this   
little matter to anyone else."  
  
"You'll owe me," said Yaten matter-of-  
factly.  
  
"Yes, of course. That is, IF you're able to   
make Serena proficient..." Seiya trailed off,   
pretending skepticism at Yaten's chances of   
success.   
  
His pride stung, Yaten replied, "Oh, you'll   
owe me alright. I can make an excellent marksman   
out of even the most reluctant or gun-shy recruit.   
Don't you worry. In fact, I personally guarantee   
that by the end of my prescribed training, Serena   
will be one of the best shots in the Project!"   
With a proud tilt of the head, Yaten turned his   
back on Seiya to begin the promised regimen with   
Serena.  
  
Satisfied that he had accomplished his goal,   
Seiya now turned to leave the shooting gallery. He   
had no doubts whatsoever that Yaten would come   
through for him - not after Yaten had given his   
personal guarantee.

---  
  
Four months after she had begun, Serena was   
all but finished with the primary physical training.   
She still needed a lot of improvement in the firing   
range, but she had achieved various levels of skill   
in five different kinds of martial arts, was as fit   
as a marathon runner, and could bench-press almost   
twice her own weight. Now marked the beginning of   
the next phase of her training in which she would   
focus on her language skills and her gym-time would   
be reduced.   
  
She still wasn't sure that she wanted to be a   
part of this Project, whatever it was, but at least   
here she had access to all kinds of teaching that   
just wouldn't have been possible for Serena   
otherwise. The Project was going to use her to do   
their work, so why shouldn't she use them to get   
training and skills? If nothing else, she was   
determined to learn everything she could.  
  
She was already fluent in English and   
French; her Spanish was at an intermediate level   
and improving quickly. With the expert help of   
the Project's in-house professor and technology   
specialist, Serena was making inroads into German,   
Russian, and Farsi, and she was a month away from   
passing a high school equivalency test.   
  
Serena walked into the small library in the   
D-ring of the Intel level where she and her tutor   
met regularly. Sitting quietly down at the table,   
she pulled out her notebooks and spread them out   
around her.  
  
"Bonjour, Serena. Êtes-vous prêtes à   
commencer vos leçons?" a soft voice queried in a   
cultured Parisian accent.  
  
"Amy! Bien sûr. Je suis toujours prête,"   
Serena replied.  
  
A short woman, Amy's stature did not in any   
way reflect her intelligence or capabilities. Amy   
was the Project's foremost expert in technology of   
all kinds. Formerly an infamous computer hacker,   
Amy now designed the high-tech gadgets necessary   
for the Project's spies. She was heavily involved   
with scientific research, and worked mostly in the   
laboratories. She was also a section leader in the   
Intel department, in charge of gathering and   
processing intelligence data.   
  
Her short hair was of an indeterminate   
color, somewhere between blue and black. Her   
midnight blue eyes were usually hidden behind   
glasses, but her delicate facial features gave her   
an air nobility. Her petite frame, dressed usually   
in a lab coat, was well proportioned, and Serena   
knew that despite Amy's diminutive appearance, Amy   
was a formidable opponent in the ring.   
  
Serena had heard that Amy came from one of   
the elite families of the country. Her private   
schooling had been intense, and Amy was purported   
to have graduated from one of the most prestigious   
universities in the country at the tender age of   
fifteen. Rumor had it that Amy had rebelled   
against the family pressure to succeed by applying   
her incredible intellect to the dark and illicit   
world of computer hacking. When her family had   
finally decided to force her to wed the son of a   
competitor's CEO in order to merge the two   
companies, Amy had sent a destructive computer   
virus to destroy the computer systems of the   
competitor's company. No longer able to hide   
their daughter's illegal activities, her family   
had supposedly sponsored her into the Project and   
had been relieved when she was hidden away.   
Serena was unsure about the reliability of this   
information, and she had a hard time reconciling   
the rebellious, vengeful Amy with the serene,   
competent, and responsible Amy who was her tutor.   
As they dove into Amy's lesson plan, Serena   
wondered how much of the story was true.

---  
  
Seiya studied Serena's file for the twentieth   
time. From what he read, his original mistake   
seemed more and more understandable.   
  
An orphan, she had been raised in a series   
of care centers and foster homes. After running   
away from physically abusive foster parents at the   
age of sixteen, Serena had gone to live on the   
streets.   
  
Despite having spent years on the streets,   
this young woman had somehow maintained a   
surprising purity, a trusting innocence that   
radiated from her soul. It was this fundamental   
belief in good, untainted in spite of all the   
brutal and harsh realities life had thrown at her,   
that attracted him to her - never mind her unusual,   
but stunning features.   
  
More importantly, there was fire and spirit   
contained in the girl's small frame - a toughness   
combined with street-smarts that was a result of   
her difficult childhood and adolescence. Early   
school testing, before she had dropped out,   
indicated an IQ way above average. He had been   
right about her after all.  
  
She was the perfect recruit.  
  
While her school grades during those sporadic   
years when she had attended school had been very   
poor, she now seemed to have a purpose in her   
studies and consequently applied herself diligently.   
It was gratifying to see that his instincts about   
her had been correct. For a careless and lazy   
student who once received barely passing marks,   
Serena was now beginning to fulfill the potential   
that those early IQ scores had suggested was   
attainable.   
  
She was cutting a veritable swath through the   
complicated learning material, taking to the   
training like a duck to water. She had been klutzy   
and inept at first, but daily practice was quickly   
molding her into a Project operative. Self-defense,   
surveillance techniques, and tactical planning were   
as much a part of her regimen as biochemistry,   
psychology, and linguistics. Even after her   
initial awkwardness with using guns, she was now   
just as capable with the weapons as any other   
recruit. At this rate, Serena would be ready for   
operations in just over a year.   
  
'Yes,' Seiya thought. 'She'll be ready.'  
  
---  
  
AN: A lot has happened in this chapter, and a lot   
of time has passed for Serena as well.  
  
I decided to set the story in Canada. For those   
of you unfamiliar with the Canadian governmental   
system, it's a Parliamentary system that is   
governed by the Prime Minister on a federal level,   
and the Provincial Premier on the provincial level.   
Since Canada does not actually have the death   
penalty, I make reference to the substituted   
American Governor's pardoning/stay of execution   
phone call with the Premier's. I hope that wasn't   
too confusing. More details about the setting to   
come.  
  
Here's a translation for the brief French   
sentences used:  
"Hello, Serena. Are you ready to begin your lessons?"  
"Amy! Of course. I'm always ready."  
My apologies for any deficiencies in the French   
spelling or grammar.  
  
Next chapter: Seiya takes a more active interest   
in our newest recruit, and Serena gets some lessons   
in etiquette.   
  
I'd love to hear from you, so send me a review!  
  
Aglaia


	3. Fatal Attractions?

La Femme Serena  
by Aglaia  
  
---  
  
Chapter 3: Fatal Attractions?  
  
Seiya read the report on his desk with relief   
and satisfaction. Today, Serena had undergone her   
weapons proficiency test. Not only had she passed,   
but she had passed with flying colors, attaining a   
score that probably only twenty percent of agents   
currently working for the Project were capable of   
achieving. It was remarkable. No one who saw her   
now could possibly believe that she had once been   
frightened of guns. Yaten had done a spectacular   
job.  
  
As if his thoughts had called the other into   
his office, Yaten now ambled in and dropped down   
casually into a chair. His long gray hair tossed   
negligently over one shoulder. It was obvious that   
he was there to gloat.  
  
"Come to collect your favor?" Seiya asked.  
  
"Suffice it to say, that I won't waste this   
opportunity. You owe me big."  
  
"Very well, Yaten. A promise is a promise."  
  
"Hmmmm. Now what should I collect from you?   
A case of beer? No, too mundane, and not big   
enough besides. Maybe I should get you to dress   
like a woman for the day?" Yaten laughed   
uproariously at this idea, but dismissed it also.   
"No, too humiliating. I'll have to give this some   
serious thought."   
  
Yaten laughed again and left the office with   
that threat hanging in the air. An avaricious   
gleam in the instructor's eyes told Seiya that   
whatever he asked for it would be costly.  
  
Little did Yaten know that Seiya was   
prepared to pay whatever price was necessary...   
Within reason, of course; there was simply no way   
that he would dress like a woman, not even for a   
day. No way in hell. But whatever Yaten asked for   
could never compare to the price the Project would   
have exacted had they found out the truth about   
Serena. So Seiya was willing to give Yaten what   
he wanted.  
  
After the instructor had left, Seiya called   
Serena into his office. She came promptly, and for   
the first time, Seiya could detect no trace of   
petulance or recrimination in her attitude towards   
him. It seemed that Serena had finally accepted   
her place within the Project - temporarily at   
least - and that she had forgiven him for whatever   
part he had played in bringing her here.  
  
She may have forgiven him, but Seiya would   
never forgive himself. Looking at her now, he   
wondered for the thousandth time how he could have   
misjudged her. Honesty shone from her like some   
kind of a beacon. Still, she was fitting in well,   
and with any luck, no one would ever know about   
his little mistake.  
  
"Congratulations on your high marksmanship   
score. You aced the proficiency test," he said.  
  
"Thank you. I've worked hard."  
  
"Yes. Well, this marks a new stage in your   
training. Report to level six tomorrow morning at   
eight o'clock for training in etiquette and   
deportment."  
  
Serena seemed very surprised. Shell-shocked   
almost. "Ex-excuse me?"   
  
"You'll be studying etiquette and deportment   
starting tomorrow," Seiya repeated. "Here's the   
access code for level six."  
  
Serena didn't know if Seiya was aware of it,   
but the handsome agent always seemed to be able to   
rattle her. He had been the one to deliver almost   
all the major bombshells in her life. This was   
merely the latest in a long series.   
  
She had come to his office expecting to hear   
the results of her tests and a review of her   
performance. Comportment was the last thing Serena   
expected to have to study. How could etiquette be   
important to an organization whose philosophy was   
to shoot first and ask questions later?  
  
"Are these lessons compulsory?" she asked   
cautiously, fidgeting uneasily in her seat.   
Having been klutzy all her life, Serena was   
skeptical about her chances of success at this   
kind of training. It would be like putting an   
elephant in a china shop.  
  
Seiya was a bit surprised at her question.   
"Yes, I'm afraid so."   
  
He studied her a bit more closely now, trying   
to figure out why Serena would be nervous about   
these lessons. It suddenly struck him that if   
Serena, a loner, had never been comfortable in any   
kind of social setting, etiquette would be as   
foreign to her as gun-slinging had once been.   
  
Little did Serena know that her unrelenting   
training in martial arts and weaponry had already   
cured her of any signs of clumsiness or   
awkwardness and had made her movements fluid,   
supple, and polished. Her tutoring with Amy had   
given her sophistication and complexity. Because   
of the confidence she had gained, Serena now   
walked with her head up, emanating an unconscious   
grace and poise, instead of hunching over and   
trying to escape attention, as she had been wont   
to do on the streets. It helped that regular   
eating and rigorous exercise had shaped her body   
into its current state of perfection; while before   
she had been merely pretty, now she was beautiful.   
Thanks to her training and natural beauty, Serena   
would attract attention wherever she went, even   
dressed in rags.   
  
In his line of work, Seiya's sense of   
compassion was rarely called upon and was often   
deliberately turned off. But even though it was   
rusty with disuse, it helped him to understand what   
Serena was feeling now. Seiya appreciated this   
insight into her character. He tried to lend her   
some of the confidence that he had come to feel for   
her.   
  
His voice was almost gentle when he said,   
"Like any new material, these lessons will be   
difficult at first, but I firmly believe that you   
can master this the way you have mastered so many   
skills since your training began."  
  
Serena was surprised again, this time by   
Seiya's words. She had never thought of him as   
being particularly understanding or nice before.   
He had always seemed like a bit of an egotistical   
jerk. But what he had just done was unquestionably   
kind. He had understood her fears and had tried   
to help her overcome them. This small act of   
decency was all the more potent in the face of the   
casual disregard he usually displayed. It made him   
seem more like a human than the mindless automaton   
he normally was.   
  
Serena began to feel an inkling of warmth for   
the devastatingly striking agent. It wasn't quite   
friendship, but it was more than just respect.  
  
"I'll try my best," she said.  
  
"I know you will."

---  
  
Serena woke briskly after the early morning   
wake-up call. She threw on a jogging suit and   
headed one level up to the indoor track for her   
daily three mile run.   
  
She made her way around the familiar track   
and allowed her thoughts to wander. Today she   
would begin a set of lessons that frightened her   
more than dodging gunfire or translating foreign   
languages. Today she would learn to act like a   
lady of breeding. She approached the lessons with   
no small amount of trepidation, but was determined   
to make the best of it.   
  
Serena showered after her run and changed   
into a comfortable pair of baggy jeans, an   
oversized t-shirt, and a pair of sneakers. Then,   
with butterflies in her stomach, she proceeded   
to her newest lesson on level six. She had to   
admit that she was somewhat curious about that.   
Never before had she been allowed access to level   
six, and Serena wondered what went on there.   
  
After she stated her desired destination in   
the elevator, the neutral voice of the computer   
queried her for an access code. She entered the   
code Seiya had given to her only yesterday, and   
the elevator began moving.   
  
The doors slid open. Serena was surprised   
to see that the hallways were finely decorated.   
Unlike the Spartan modern design of the other   
levels that reinforced the impression of power,   
sterility, and isolation, this level was warm and   
inviting. The walls were painted in soft, earth   
tones. Soft instrumental music drifted out into   
all the rooms, as if played by invisible musicians.   
Paintings and sculptures were placed tastefully   
around comfortable leather, cambric, and wood   
furniture. The warm organic materials used in the   
design were at polar opposites from the cold glass   
and metal of the other levels.  
  
Serena explored the level cautiously. Not   
having been told previously where she should go,   
she passed slowly from room to beautifully   
decorated room. Instead of the bright,   
unflinching fluorescent lighting used elsewhere in   
the complex, this level was lit with muted light-  
bulbs and candles in gothic sconces on the walls.   
There was wood paneling in some rooms, and wall-  
paper in others. In contrast to the strict   
functionality of the other levels, this one had   
strange curios that served no obvious use. It   
had photos and paintings. It had ancient relics   
and arcane ornaments. It had potted plants and   
vases filled with fresh flowers. But most of all,   
it had personality.   
  
Serena felt like she had stepped into a   
country estate and felt a strange sense of   
homecoming. She picked up an oddly curved dagger   
from its stand and examined it more closely.  
  
"Hello, Serena." A soft, melodious voice   
drifted over to her.  
  
Serena quickly spun towards the sound and   
saw a woman who was much older than herself. She   
was dressed in a conservative but flattering black   
pinstriped pant-suit with a cream-colored silk   
blouse and black satin pumps. Her only jewelry   
was a pair of garnet earrings shaped like inverted   
chevrons. The woman's long, black hair was   
streaked with gray, but dark green highlights   
showed when she moved. Part of her hair was tied in   
a bun at the crown of her head, while the rest hung down   
and brushed the back of her knees. Her face was   
unlined except for a few small creases around her   
eyes; her patrician nose gave her a mature   
appearance. She was of an indeterminate age; she   
could have been anywhere between forty and sixty.   
Serena looked into her eyes and felt disturbed by   
what she saw there. They were knowing eyes - eyes   
that had seen too much - and Serena inexplicably   
felt a little afraid.  
  
"My name is Trista. I'm your new   
instructor."   
  
Serena replaced the dagger on its stand and   
walked over to shake hands with her new teacher.   
"It's nice to meet you," she said politely.  
  
"It's good to meet you, Serena. Welcome to   
my humble abode."  
  
Serena was surprised. "You live here?" she   
exclaimed. "It's beautiful!"  
  
Trista smiled, "Thank you. That means a lot   
to me. I designed it myself."  
  
If possible, Serena's eyes widened even   
more. "Are you serious? It's so spectacular!"  
  
"Please, have a seat." Trista motioned   
courteously to a small grouping of wicker chairs   
set around a tripod table.  
  
Serena sat down slowly; she felt grungy and   
uncomfortable sitting in such opulent surroundings   
in her casual, oversized clothes. Under Trista's   
watchful gaze, Serena grew even more uncomfortable.   
She nervously squirmed in her chair and fidgeted   
with her hands, not knowing where to put them.  
  
Trista smiled encouragingly and sat down at   
the other side of the table. She gently folded   
her hands in her lap and crossed her legs at the   
ankle, keeping her knees pressed tightly together.   
Serena was put at ease and immediately felt   
better. She did her best to emulate Trista's   
pose. Trista began the lesson by kindly warning   
Serena that Ladies never crossed their legs at the   
knee. Serena smiled gratefully as Trista   
continued to instruct her in the ways true Ladies   
should behave. This was followed by a lesson on   
tea service, as the two shared a few cups   
accompanied by small sandwiches and scones.  
  
Serena found Trista to be warm and engaging,   
by far one of her nicest instructors. As they   
chatted amicably, Trista inserted gentle cautions   
and advice about behavior, but she did so without   
making Serena feel ignorant or embarrassed.   
  
Never once, in all her years of teaching   
these lessons, had Trista ever shed her mask of   
serenity. Despite the sometimes wild and   
uncultivated students who had come mostly from the   
wrong side of the tracks, Trista had always   
prevailed in teaching them the basics of good   
manners - genteel behavior that would allow them   
to pass unnoticed in the best of circles. Whether   
showing an uncouth ex-gang member how to converse   
in polite society or teaching a boorish former bank-  
robber the proper way to walk, she had boundless   
lengths of patience and a personality that invited   
confidences.   
  
However, as Serena quickly found out, Trista   
shared very little about herself. In fact, after   
spending three hours together, Serena knew almost   
as little about Trista as she had when they   
started. But in spite of the way Trista closed   
herself off, Serena implicitly trusted her new   
instructor, and she left the lessons feeling a   
happiness she hadn't experienced in years.

---  
  
For the fourth night in a row, Seiya lay   
awake on his bed in the dark, staring at the   
ceiling. The room was completely empty except for   
the double bed and a tall dresser. Anyone who saw   
the space would be surprised by its strange   
emptiness, lacking in photos or personal items of   
any kind. It looked as if he had moved into the   
room only yesterday, instead of the twelve years it   
had really been since he started living there.  
  
For as long as he could remember, Seiya had   
been lonely. Trapped in an isolated and dangerous   
lifestyle, he never allowed anyone into his life.   
There was always the chance that civilian liaisons,   
if known, could be used against him, and he would   
never want to put a loved-one in the considerable   
danger he faced every day in his work. The   
Project had strict regulations forbidding   
relationships between fellow operatives, and that   
left him with nowhere to turn. He had come to   
gradually accept these conditions as a hazard of   
the job, a job so necessary that sacrifices must   
be made. But the emptiness had only increased,   
and there was a hole in his heart that gnawed away   
at him - an ache in the pit of his stomach that he   
couldn't forget.  
  
It was getting ridiculous; the hollow feeling   
inside him was an unnecessary distraction that was   
beginning to affect his work. Sleep deprivation was   
the most common source of mistakes, mistakes that   
Seiya could little afford to make. At this rate, he   
was going to wear himself out in a matter of weeks.   
In an exasperated gesture, he ran his hand through   
his perpetually-mussed hair.   
  
As the hours passed, Seiya continued to toss   
and turn, sleepless. Finally giving up at three in   
the morning, he decided to get some work done   
instead. He took a quick shower to clear his mind   
and headed directly to his office.

---  
  
"...and finally, the important thing to   
remember, Serena, is to be considerate," Trista   
spoke in her usual soothing tones. Light piano   
music played in the background. "Always do your   
utmost to make sure that everyone is as comfortable   
as possible, and exercise politeness and gentleness   
at all times. Now we will begin our dinner."   
  
Serena was seated at the head of a long,   
rectangular dining table of solid cherry. The   
table was set for a formal dinner, complete with   
candlesticks and a centerpiece. Flickering light   
from the candles glinted off of the many sparkling   
crystal glasses. A lightly embroidered white damask   
napkin was folded daintily in her lap.   
  
Trista had been lecturing her on table manners   
for several hours now, making Serena memorize a long   
list of general rules. Serena had been hungry when   
the lesson had started, but now she was ravenous.   
Anticipating the lovely meal, her mouth began   
salivating even as her stomach made its complaints   
known. Serena leaned back in her chair as Trista   
finally served the soup course.  
  
"Bon Appétit!"  
  
Unfortunately for Serena's stomach, before   
she could enjoy her soup, she had to figure out   
which spoon to use. For the next five minutes,   
Serena agonized over the flatware. She mournfully   
eyed the appetizing cream of asparagus soup as it   
cooled rapidly while her hand hovered indecisively   
over the multitude of utensils before her. Making   
her decision, she hesitantly reached for the   
smallest spoon.  
  
Ahem Trista cleared her throat discreetly.  
  
Serena's face flushed with embarrassment as   
she put the small spoon back in its place at the   
table. Relieved that there was only one other   
spoon, Serena eagerly grabbed the correct utensil   
and hungrily closed her mouth over a large spoonful   
of soup.  
  
Almost immediately, her mouth opened again:   
"Gaaaahhh!"   
  
Serena frantically blew through her mouth,   
her cheeks filling out like a smith's bellows.   
Her eyes bulged, and her face turned a fascinating   
shade of red. The soup hadn't been as cool as she   
had expected. Swallowing at last, Serena fanned her   
hand in front of her face in an attempt to cool   
her scalded mouth.   
  
"Hot! Hot! Hot! Hot! Hot!"  
  
Grabbing recklessly for the glass of water   
on her left, Serena accidentally knocked over the   
goblet on her right and spilled its contents across   
her lap.  
  
"Cold! Cold! Cold! Cold! Cold!" she   
yelled as she jumped up from her chair, knocking   
it down.  
  
Trista sighed as she surveyed the damage.   
The carefully positioned place settings were in   
scattered disarray. Water and ice cubes trailed   
across the once-pristine tablecloth from the upset   
goblet until it dripped pathetically into a puddle   
on the floor. Serena's high-backed chair had fallen   
down and lay overturned on the ground behind the   
still-hopping girl. 'We've got out work cut out   
for us,' thought Trista with resignation.  
  
When things had calmed down and everything   
had been replaced, Serena found herself once again   
up against the cream of asparagus. Her head was   
held down in shame at having been defeated by a   
mere soup.  
  
Trista encouraged her, "Go ahead, Serena."   
  
With more caution this time, Serena picked   
up the correct spoon. Placing her left elbow on   
the table, she greedily slurped the now-cold soup   
(after all, she was still starving).   
  
Trista tried to refrain from criticizing,   
knowing how fragile Serena's ego was, but was   
unable to remain silent when Serena brought the   
bowl to her mouth in order to drink the last drops   
of the soup.  
  
"Serena, when eating soup, one should never   
make sounds. When you reach the last few spoonfuls   
of soup, tilt the bowl away from yourself and spoon   
the rest," Trista said as she demonstrated. "Never   
pick up your soup bowl. And remember Rule #3.   
Will you recite it for me?"  
  
Realizing her mistake, Serena took her left   
elbow off the table. "Rule #3: Keep elbows off the   
table, otherwise it can interfere with the people   
beside you."  
  
"And Rule #15?"  
  
"Rule #15: Your water goblet is always on   
the right. Your bread plate is always on the left."  
  
"Very good, Serena. Don't forget that when   
you're eating bread, you should first serve the   
butter onto your own bread plate before buttering   
the bread. Now, let's move on to the next course."  
  
Serena looked at the salad now placed in   
front of her with trepidation. Now what would she   
do? This was worse than the soup; there were so   
many forks to choose from, so many possibilities   
for making more mistakes. After several more   
minutes of agonized deliberation on Serena's part,   
Trista took pity on her and gave her a hint.  
  
"Remember Rule #8? When in doubt, work your   
way from the outside in."  
  
Serena sighed, picking up the correct fork.   
How could eating be so complex and convoluted?   
There were literally dozens of unwritten rules that   
she would have to learn and memorize. As she slowly   
picked at her Caesar salad, she despaired of ever   
mastering good table manners.

---  
  
Several weeks later, Serena and Trista were   
once again dining together. When Serena finished   
the superbly roasted beef, she placed her knife and   
fork on her plate to indicate eleven o'clock.  
  
"You're doing splendidly, Serena,"   
complimented Trista.   
  
Serena had undergone yet another   
transformation. Like a young doe learning to walk,   
she had wobbled on her own two feet until she was   
able to stand on her own and finally take her first   
shaky steps. With trepidation at first, but then   
with growing confidence, Serena had finally mastered   
the etiquette of dining at and hosting a formal meal.  
  
Once the plates had been cleared, a "waiter"   
then served the next course: dessert.   
  
Serena's eyes devoured the tall parfait glass   
filled with her favorite ice cream - vanilla. It   
was served with rich chocolate syrup and mint leaves   
on a small china plate with an accompanying dessert   
spoon. As she blissfully enjoyed the treat, Serena's   
mind wandered to the music that pervaded Trista's home.   
  
"Trista, what is the music that's always   
playing whenever I come here? It's beautiful."  
  
"I'm glad you like it. This piece is called   
Canon in D, by a man named Johann Pachebel."  
  
"Pachebel? Who is he? Is this... classical   
music?"  
  
"That's correct, Serena. Would you like to   
learn more about it?"  
  
Serena nodded her eagerness.  
  
"Well, Pachebel was a German composer from   
what is called the 'Baroque' period..."  
  
And with that, Serena began a new set of   
lessons.

---  
  
It had been months since she had originally   
begun her training, and Serena still had yet to   
set foot outside the underground complex that   
housed the Project. Never before had Serena spent   
such an extended period indoors, and in spite of   
the size of the complex, she was beginning to get   
cabin fever. She longed to go outside, smell fresh   
air, see the blue sky, and feel the gentle caress   
of a passing breeze. Now she knew what submariners   
must feel like on extended journeys.   
  
"Well, Serena. How are your lessons   
progressing?" A deep voice interrupted her thoughts.  
  
Serena looked up from her computer monitor   
and saw Seiya leaning casually against a table   
nearby. Seiya wore one of his standard black,   
designer power-suits. The earring in his left ear   
glittered and contrasted with his bronzed skin.   
He lips were curved in a reflexively seductive   
smile; his perfect, white teeth gleamed at Serena.  
  
'My God,' Serena thought. 'It can't be   
legal for someone to look that good!' She forced   
herself to answer calmly and show no sign of her   
thoughts.  
  
"Things are progressing well, especially   
with Trista. She thinks that I will be finished   
with her lessons soon."  
  
"Good, good. You're making excellent   
progress, well ahead of the originally scheduled   
parameters."  
  
Serena found it disconcerting the way she had   
gradually begun to run into Seiya more and more   
frequently. Ever since she had agreed to enter the   
Project, they had shared an uneasy truce, and he   
had continued to appear randomly to supervise her   
lessons or give her instructions.   
  
Even more disturbing, however, was the way   
they now seemed to bump into each other seemingly   
accidentally; hardly a day or two passed without   
her seeing him at least once. She was sure that   
he was checking up on her, but she couldn't help   
but feel that these innocent conversations were   
masking something deeper.   
  
It was true that he was physically very   
attractive. He was good-looking in a conventional  
way that probably had all kinds of women flinging  
themselves at him. Even now, as they continued   
their innocuous discussion, she had to repress the   
desire to run her hands through his wild, silky   
hair.   
  
But Serena felt that it was more than that.   
Whenever they touched, even if it was only his arm   
brushing accidentally against hers, she felt a   
thrill of electricity run through her. Looking   
into his navy blue eyes, she wondered if he felt   
that spark between them whenever they were together.   
It was difficult to tell from his controlled body   
language, and his expressionless face gave nothing   
away. At times, there seemed to be a degree of   
warmth in his voice, but just as Serena felt sure   
that it was there, the cold tones would return and   
make her question whether she had imagined it.   
She wondered if he even liked her at all.  
  
Serena sternly marshaled her thoughts by   
reminding herself of the serious consequences that   
would result from a relationship with this   
obviously dangerous man. She had been recently   
informed about the Project's policies on personal   
relationships, and it was simply another incentive   
to stay away from him. Unfortunately, this was   
becoming increasingly difficult as Seiya seemed to   
go out of his way to look in on her regularly.   
  
"If you're having any problems, don't hesitate   
to come to me," he assured her.  
  
"Actually, I do have a request."  
  
"Yes, Serena? What is it?"  
  
"It's my birthday tomorrow, and I was   
wondering if I could go outside. I promise I'll   
be good!" she pledged.  
  
Serena was surprised to notice Seiya   
clenching his teeth convulsively. His body suddenly   
became rigid, and there was something in his eyes   
that she had trouble identifying. However, his next   
words distracted her from analyzing the strange   
look in his eyes.   
  
"I'm afraid that's against the rules, Serena.   
We can't let you outside."  
  
"It could just be for a few minutes, a walk   
around the block even! You could have guards with   
me the whole time. Or you could even come. I   
won't run away! Please?" she pleaded desperately.   
"I just need to breathe air that hasn't been   
filtered and recycled."  
  
"I'm sorry. I can't." With that, he turned   
away abruptly and walked back to his office.

---  
  
The next day, Serena had skipped all her   
lessons and locked herself inside her room in an   
act of rebellion. So far, no one had reprimanded   
her for the absences, but Serena knew it was bound   
to come sooner or later. At seven pm that night,   
someone knocked on her door.  
  
"Go away!" Serena yelled.  
  
The knocking persisted until Serena was   
forced to open the door. She yanked it open   
violently to find Seiya standing awkwardly in the   
hallway.  
  
"What do you want?" Serena asked bitingly,   
expecting a punishment or lecture for missing   
lessons.  
  
"I just wanted to give you something." He   
reached behind him and brought out a large cake   
frosted with pink icing. There were twenty-three   
candles lit on the cake. "Happy Birthday," he   
said with a smile that was almost shy.  
  
Serena was very surprised. Seiya had never   
before shown much compassion or understanding, and   
Serena was touched.  
  
"Blow it out," he instructed gently.   
  
Completely mollified, Serena closed her eyes   
to make a wish and blew out the candles. They   
stared at each other in silence for a few moments.  
  
"Don't you want to know what I wished for?"   
Serena finally asked. There was a deep underlying   
tension running between them. Somehow, her   
question was about more than just a wish.  
  
"Don't tell me," he answered softly. Seiya   
stared deeply into her cerulean eyes and felt that   
familiar ache that resonated in his soul. "If you   
do, your wish won't come true, and I would never   
want that to happen." Finally breaking eye   
contact, Seiya handed her the cake and turned to   
leave.  
  
"Thank you," Serena whispered almost   
inaudibly.  
  
As he left, Seiya said, "I hope your wish   
comes true."   
  
Serena stood, holding the cake, and watched   
his retreating figure with emotion-filled eyes,   
following it down the hall until he was out of   
sight.   
  
"Me too."  
  
---  
  
AN: Well? Whaddya think?   
  
I'm sorry to all those Sailor Pluto fans for   
making her so old. I needed a "motherly" figure   
in Serena's life, and since she was the oldest and   
most mature scout. . .  
  
Much thanks to all those who have reviewed!   
Please send some more my way!!  
  
Next chapter: Serena finishes up her training and   
embarks on her first mission.  
  
Aglaia


	4. Mission: Impossible

La Femme Serena  
by Aglaia  
  
WARNING: This chapter is rated R for violence.   
Read at your own discretion.  
  
---  
  
Chapter 4: Mission: Impossible  
  
Seiya sat in his closed office and stared at   
the paperwork on his desk. There were dozens of   
things he should have been doing at that moment,   
but he wasn't doing any of them. Instead, he was   
thinking about Serena.  
  
He knew her every move. He could recite the   
key components of her profile perfectly from memory.   
It was beginning to worry him how much time he spent   
thinking about her. He had her schedule memorized   
and knew where she was at almost every second of the   
day; he was practically becoming a stalker!   
  
He told himself that he was merely keeping a   
close eye on the newest recruit. After all, Serena   
was in a critical period of her training, and it was   
more important than ever that she be closely   
monitored. The reason for this was simple: some   
years before his time, a group of recruits had   
secretly banded together and gone rogue. It had   
taken seven long years to destroy that splinter   
group, a difficult task that he had helped to bring   
to a successful conclusion. Needless to say, the   
Project was not eager for it to happen again.   
  
The issue settled in his mind, he finally   
began wading through the work that was piled up on   
his desk. However, even as he turned his full   
attention to the latest operational briefing, deep   
in his subconscious there was an uneasily nagging   
disquiet, warning him that the problem had not been   
truly resolved.

---  
  
When Serena stepped from the elevator and   
onto the sixth level, she felt a familiar sense of   
homecoming. The warm atmosphere of Trista's place   
never failed to relax and welcome her. She   
breathed in the faint smell of sandalwood and   
peppermint and sighed in contentment. Her   
sessions with Trista would soon be finished, and   
Serena knew that she would miss their time   
together.   
  
Trista had become a surrogate mother for   
her, someone she could turn to for advice, as well   
as providing a shoulder to cry on when Serena   
could tough it out no longer. Serena respected   
and admired Trista above anyone she had ever met.   
Trista's serenity and grace were nothing when   
compared with her warm, loving nature.  
  
Over the course of their acquaintance,   
Trista had shown Serena how to walk as if she were   
gliding, how to apply make-up, how to select the   
proper wine to accompany any meal, and how to   
make polite conversation. Trista nurtured in   
Serena an impeccable taste and a unique sense of   
style. Under her tutelage, Serena became more   
soft-spoken and feminine.  
  
In addition to all this, Trista had added   
another dimension to Serena's personality.   
Gradually refining Serena's tastes, Trista   
imparted to her a deep love and appreciation of   
art and culture. Together, they discussed poetry,   
music, and painting; they debated the merits of   
cubism and the true authorship of Shakespeare's   
plays.   
  
Most of all, Serena would forever be   
indebted to Trista for introducing her to Mozart.   
Never before had she been so moved by music. In   
her youth, Serena had been accustomed to think of   
classical music as boring; it was something that   
old people listened to. Now, whenever she was   
upset or had had a particularly rough day, Serena   
would lock herself in her room and relax to the   
strains of Mozart's Symphony No. 40 in G Minor; it   
never failed to center and calm her. The music   
resonated deep within her and helped her put   
everything in perspective. Serena was forever   
amazed at the way the harmonic and melodic lines   
were intricately interwoven, passing from one   
instrument to another and back again. Sometimes   
she would trace the path of a single instrument   
from start to finish; at other times, she would   
sit back and listen to the beautiful way all the   
instruments came together to make an astounding   
whole. It was passionate and vibrant, and the   
music had a depth and character that she had never   
experienced before.  
  
Shakespeare had said, "If music be the food   
of love, play on," but Serena truly believed that   
music was the food of the soul. It nourished her   
spirit, and Serena rejoiced in it. There existed   
such a wide variety of composers and pieces to   
explore, something for every taste and every mood.   
Sometimes the music told a story or painted a   
scene; other times it expressed the emotions of a   
moment, and Serena couldn't help feeling happier   
after listening.  
  
Serena now walked toward the designated   
meeting place, following the soft, luscious   
strains of Rimsky-Korsakov's Scheherazade into a   
room decorated in a Victorian style. The hardwood   
floors were partially covered with beautiful rugs   
and authentic Chippendale furniture. Serena   
gingerly sat down on the settee to the swelling   
sounds of Sinbad's ship at sea. Trista greeted   
her with one of her usual comforting smiles and   
poured tea from the Wedgwood china.   
  
"Hello, Serena. How are you today?" Trista   
asked as she handed Serena a teacup and saucer.  
  
"Oh, very well, thank you. And yourself?"   
Serena inquired in lilting tones.  
  
"I, too, am well. You must be excited that   
your sessions will soon be over."  
  
"How can you say that, Trista? You know   
perfectly well how much I will miss you," Serena   
chided gently.  
  
"Thank you for the compliment, my dear. I   
will miss you also. You are my best student, and   
I am so very proud of you. Remember that you are   
always welcome here. If you ever need someone to   
talk to . . ."  
  
Serena was touched by the gesture. "Thank   
you for allowing me into your home. I will never   
forget everything you have done for me."  
  
It was nothing, my dear. You did everything   
yourself. I only pointed you in the right   
direction. And now, you will have to undergo your   
final test to pass my sessions."  
  
"A test? What is it?"  
  
"Tomorrow night, you will attend a formal   
dinner. Someone will pick you up from your room   
at six o'clock. If, at the dinner, you show   
yourself to be everything I know you to be, your   
lessons with me will be complete."  
  
This was somewhat unexpected. Serena had   
undergone testing at the end of each of her other   
sets of lessons, but how was one to be tested in   
etiquette and comportment?  
  
Trista smoothly set down her own teacup and   
placed the saucer on the table. She quickly left   
the room, and when she came back, she was holding   
a beautiful evening gown.  
  
"I want you to wear this tomorrow night,"   
she said.   
  
Serena eyed the gown in astonishment. It   
was made of white chiffon, silk and lace. The   
neckline was square and decorated with gold lace.   
The diaphanous, sheer material was gathered under   
the breasts and flowed naturally down to the   
ankle. It had short, puffed sleeves, and the   
dress was seeded with tiny pearls with white and   
gold embroidery.  
  
"Oh! It's so beautiful! I couldn't,"   
Serena protested.  
  
"Of course you could. This was my wedding   
dress," Trista said in a surprising revelation.   
"I always meant to give it to my daughter one day.   
When my husband died, I gave up any hope of doing   
that, but you . . .you have exceeded my every   
expectation, and you have given me new hope. You   
are like a daughter to me. Nothing would please   
me more than for you to have this dress."  
  
"Oh, Trista!" Serena cried as she threw   
herself into the older woman's arms. Never before   
had Trista revealed so much about herself.   
Together, they both shed tears for what could have   
been.   
  
Trista regained control of herself before   
Serena did, but instead of pushing Serena away,   
Trista gently caressed her now waist-length hair   
and murmured soothing sounds in her ear.  
  
"Shh ... shhh .... It's ok."  
  
When Serena had dried her tears, she   
gratefully accepted the dress, but promised to   
save it for some other special occasion. "Thank   
you, Trista. You have given me everything I have   
that is worth having," she whispered tenderly,   
referring to more than just the gown.  
  
With a final hug, Serena took the dress and   
left.   
  
Trista followed Serena's departing form with   
sorrowful eyes and lips pressed together. Filled   
with deep regret and concern, she almost didn't   
notice someone entering the room behind her.  
  
"Thank you for doing this," a bass voice   
said.  
  
Trista replied without turning around, "Do   
we really have to go through with this?"  
  
"You know we have to," said Seiya, as he   
came to stand next to her. "She doesn't have a   
choice. Neither did you; neither did I."  
  
"She deserves one," Trista asserted. "She   
deserves better."  
  
"We all do," Seiya replied sadly.  
  
"I hope you know what you're doing," Trista   
said, biting her lip to keep from crying.  
  
"Me too," he said sincerely, more to himself   
than to Trista. "Me too."

---  
  
Serena spent the next day preparing for her   
evening test. She mentally went over everything   
she had learned, but felt more nervous than ever.   
She realized, going over her notes, that it had   
been almost two years since she had begun her   
training.   
  
"Can it have been that long?" In   
some ways, it seemed like it was years ago that   
she had been living on the streets, without a   
penny to her name, scraping by from day to day.   
Idly, she wondered when it would all be over,   
"When will it end for me?"   
  
As she dressed and made herself up for the   
dinner, Serena wondered how this test would   
proceed. Her previous tests had been either   
written or practical, and it seemed likely that   
this would be a practical test. "A formal   
dinner. Perhaps I'll have to play the perfect   
hostess. I wonder if there will be many guests,   
or maybe just myself and the adjudicator."  
  
Serena had decided definitely against   
wearing Trista's dress. It was too special for   
such an unworthy occasion. Instead, she chose a   
backless, pale pink dress of silk with an   
asymmetrical hemline and a halter-style neckline   
that was gathered into a small, jeweled knot   
before it passed around her neck. The dress   
hugged her curves in all the right places. She   
wore simple pearl earrings, a gauzy shawl in a   
darker shade of pink, and rose-colored satin   
pumps. Her hair was swept up messily with pins   
and secured loosely at the crown of her head with   
a pink ribbon in a style that Trista had taught   
her; curled little tendrils fell disarmingly   
around her face, neck, and shoulders. She curled   
her lashes expertly and lengthened them with light   
mascara. She applied silver eye shadow to her   
eyelids that shimmered iridescently. Lastly, she   
brushed her lips with a pale, pink gloss that made   
her lips shine.  
  
She was finally ready, and precisely at six   
o'clock, a knock sounded on her door. When she   
opened it, she was shocked to see Seiya standing   
on the other side, holding a single, long-stemmed,   
fuchsia pink rose. Seiya was dressed immaculately   
in a black suit; he wore a pressed, wine-colored   
shirt and a slim, glossy, black euro-tie made of   
Italian silk. His black dress shoes were shined   
to perfection, and diamonds glinted from his left   
ear and both of his cuffs. His long hair was tied   
back in its usual ponytail at the nape of his   
neck, while unruly bangs hung roguishly in his   
eyes.  
  
"Serena..." he said breathlessly, "you   
look... beautiful."  
  
"Thank you," she blushed.  
  
He handed her the rose, and she accepted it   
gracefully, holding it briefly to her nose. He   
then offered her his arm; when she accepted, he   
threaded her arm through his and tucked her small   
hand in the crook of his elbow. They walked   
toward an elevator together.  
  
"I thought I'd treat you tonight," Seiya   
said.  
  
"Oh? How so?" Serena inquired politely.  
  
"Well, tonight you are finally going to get   
your wish."  
  
'My wish?' Serena thought back to the   
night of her birthday, and her heart began to   
race. 'Does he mean...?'  
  
"Tonight, I'm taking you to a restaurant - a   
real restaurant, in the real world. You're   
finally allowed to go outside."  
  
"Oh. That wish," Serena replied. Her heart   
sank a little when she realized what he was   
talking about, but she quickly suppressed her   
feelings. 'Silly! How could you ever think that   
he meant . . .' She pasted on a cheerful smile.   
"Thank you. This means a lot to me."  
  
Seiya didn't seem to notice her   
disappointment.  
  
When they got into the elevator, Seiya   
entered a ten-digit code and said, "Ground level."   
The doors slid silently open to reveal a granite   
foyer with cream-colored marble floors, a large   
and heavy reception desk made of mahogany and   
reinforced with steel, and a crystal chandelier   
that bathed the room in golden light. It looked   
pretty much like the main floor of any office   
building. Seiya nodded curtly to the   
receptionist. Escorting Serena to the glass   
double-doors, he let go of Serena's arm only to   
open the door for her.  
  
Despite her previous disappointment, Serena   
was now becoming more and more excited at the   
prospect of her first trip outdoors in nearly two   
years. She elatedly stepped through the opened   
door and took a deep breath of fresh air once she   
was outside.   
  
"Finally," she breathed.  
  
Seiya gave her a few minutes to enjoy the   
moment and then placed his hand at the small of   
her back to direct her to the waiting, white,   
stretched limousine. Tingles traveled up and down   
Serena's spine when Seiya touched her. She gladly   
slid across the soft, black, leather seats in the   
limo to make room for Seiya, who soon slid in next   
to her. They hadn't said much to each other so   
far, and Seiya seemed to understand that Serena   
needed some space in order to absorb everything.   
  
They were both content to ride the rest of   
the way to the restaurant in silence. Serena was   
eagerly taking in all the sights: the brightly lit   
office buildings, the sparkling stars, and the   
pale crescent moon that hung in the sky. She was   
surprised to find herself in her hometown of   
Ottawa, but magic had somehow filled the night.   
Serena looked upon familiar landmarks with new   
eyes, as if seeing them for the first time.   
  
Seiya spent that time watching Serena,   
admiring her beauty, taking pleasure from her   
enjoyment of the ride. He was pleased to notice   
that Serena never once let go of the rose.  
  
When they reached the restaurant, the valet   
held the doors open for them, and they walked   
inside. It was obviously a swanky, upscale place.   
There were small booths and table scattered around   
the spacious but innovative design. Contemporary   
art hung on the walls, and decorative chandeliers   
hung from the ceiling. There was a quiet murmur   
of conversation from the other guests that was   
almost drowned out by the moving strains from the   
string quartet playing in a nearby alcove. The   
maître d'hôtel guided them to their table. Seiya   
immediately ordered a bottle of Dom Pérignon. The   
waiter soon brought them a bottle of the house's   
finest, a Vintage Rosé 1993. Once Seiya had   
approved the choice, the waiter poured it out into   
two tulip shaped flutes for them.  
  
"To you, Serena - the most beautiful and   
talented operative I have ever met," Seiya   
toasted.  
  
They briefly touched glasses, and the   
melodic chime echoed in Serena's ears. They each   
took a small sip of champagne; the savory aromas   
and rich bouquets attacked their palates, while   
the effervescent bubbles tickled their upper lips.   
Then, Seiya further surprised Serena by handing   
her a flat box, roughly the size of a hardcover   
book, elegantly wrapped in bright paper and   
ribbons.  
  
"For me?" Serena flushed slightly in   
pleasure.  
  
"For you," Seiya acknowledged.  
  
For the first time in her life, Serena felt   
special. Here she was in an impossibly expensive   
restaurant, sipping the finest champagne, having   
dinner with an incredibly handsome man,   
chauffeured there in an extravagant limousine, and   
the recipient of a wonderfully wrapped gift.  
  
"May I open it?" Serena asked eagerly.  
  
Seiya nodded his approval.  
  
Serena enthusiastically ripped off the   
ribbons and tore open the paper; these she   
discarded in the wanton manner of a young child.   
Revealed inside was a rectangular, lacquered,   
cherry-wood box that was a little heavy. Serena   
flashed him a grin of excitement and opened the   
box.   
  
Revealed inside was a SigSauer 9mm gun with   
two spare clips.   
  
Serena's eyes widened from shock.   
  
Ignoring her reaction, Seiya began his   
rehearsed speech. "It's loaded," he told her.   
"Seated at the table behind you are two men and a   
woman. One man is an international arms' dealer,   
the other man is his bodyguard. Once I have left,   
I want you to put at least two rounds in the   
dealer - at least two. To your left is a hallway   
that will lead you to the restrooms. In the men's   
restroom, in the last stall, there is a small   
window. Open the window and crawl through. A car   
will be waiting for you in the alley outside.   
Please wait until I leave."   
  
Throughout his speech, Serena had been   
unable to speak or move. Frozen in shock, she had   
nonetheless understood his instructions. Seiya   
now stood up to leave. He re-buttoned one of the   
buttons of his suit jacket.  
  
"Good luck," were his last words.  
  
As he walked away, Serena finally crashed   
back to reality. Oh, how she wished it were all a   
bad dream. Gone, now, were all her fantasies   
about a romantic dinner for two. It always came   
back to this, whether at the complex or here on   
the outside, with Seiya it was always about work.   
'Everything was about work,' she realized.   
Numbness crept through her and froze her heart.   
She would never be able to escape her work, and   
she could never look at Seiya in the same way   
again.  
  
These thoughts had flown through her mind in   
a matter of seconds. Now she took the gun from   
the dark red velvet in which it was nestled, her   
mind feeling somehow detached from her body.   
Serena held the gun under the table and worked the   
action to chamber the first round. She silently   
hid the two spare clips into compartments of her   
dress and slipped off her shoes - after all, she   
couldn't be expected to carry out her mission in   
high heels. Lastly, she downed the rest of her   
champagne in one gulp to steel her nerves. Part   
of her was appalled at chugging what must surely   
cost almost four hundred dollars a bottle, but the   
magic of the night was gone. The champagne had   
turned sour in her mouth. 'What a waste,' she   
thought in a detached corner of her mind.  
  
She smoothly got up from her table and   
turned to look at the one behind her. She slowly   
walked over to the table of three, using her body   
to shield the gun from sight. As she came within   
two feet of the table and its occupants, they   
turned towards her in surprise. Taking advantage   
of the psychological moment that existed before  
they realized she was a threat, Serena quickly   
brought her two hands together on the grip of her   
weapon and aimed it at the chest of the tall,   
bulky one who could barely fit into his expensive   
Italian suit. 'The bodyguard,' she deduced   
mentally. At such close range, Serena didn't even   
have to make use of the tritium-coated sights on   
her weapon. She depressed the trigger twice, as   
she had been trained to, not flinching in the   
slightest from the recoil.  
  
Screaming erupted all over the restaurant,   
and chaos ensued as patrons and staff alike all   
clawed desperately to get away from the "madwoman"   
with the gun. Dispassionately, Serena noted that   
blood was spreading rapidly from the bodyguard's   
wounds even as she ignored the shrieking and   
hysterical woman to take careful aim at the arms   
dealer's head. The dealer's eyes were widened in   
shock when Serena turned her gun on him and fired   
three times into his head and chest. He slumped   
onto the table. There could be no doubt that he   
was dead, and Serena didn't even bother to check   
for a pulse.  
  
By now, adrenaline was pumping through   
Serena's system, and it prevented her from   
reacting to her first taking of a life. She ran   
down the designated hallway and into the empty   
men's restroom. She didn't even pause to notice   
the elegant, black marble floors and counters or   
the classy gold décor. Following her   
instructions, she made her way swiftly to the last   
stall in the row and pushed back the black metal   
door.  
  
She set down her gun on the sill as she   
tried to force open the long unused window. The   
square portal of frosted glass was roughly 40 cm   
in width and height, easily big enough to fit her   
slim body through. When she finally slid the   
window open, what she found shocked her   
motionless.  
  
It was bricked shut.  
  
She stood gaping at the red brick for a few   
seconds, unable to understand what she was seeing,   
her mouth opening and closing wordlessly. Then,   
overwhelmed by fury and fear, Serena began to   
scream and pound her fists futilely against the   
brick, which didn't give a millimeter against her   
frustration. Finally, once her rage was spent,   
she stopped bruising her fists against the brick.   
She picked up her weapon, stumbled unsteadily out   
of the stall, and leaned wearily against the back   
wall. She pressed her sweaty forehead against the   
cool marble. "What am I going to do?" she   
wondered desperately.  
  
She knew that the arms dealer must have had   
other bodyguards who would now be looking for her,   
but she was unprepared when one burst into the   
restroom.  
  
He seemed equally surprised to see her. He   
was apparently not expecting to find a woman in the   
men's restroom. Astonishment held him still for a few   
moments, and Serena turned slowly to face him   
while keeping her gun out of sight behind her.   
She smiled winningly at the guard, and he   
subconsciously responded by lowering his gun. Few   
could withstand the full force of Serena's   
charming smile, and it didn't even occur to the   
guard that she might be the very assassin he was   
looking for.   
  
It was a mistake he would not live to make   
again.   
  
Serena effortlessly brought out her gun and   
loosed her last round at his head. He fell   
backward when the 9mm cartridge impacted his skull   
and passed completely through his head.   
  
Now, alerted by the report of the weapon,   
the bodyguards' search would surely narrow on her   
location. Serena knew she had to escape quickly,   
and it was obvious that the front door was out of   
the question. But surely, the restaurant must   
have a service door. She made a split-second   
decision to head toward the kitchen. As she ran   
down the vacated hallway, she ejected the empty   
magazine and slid a new one in place.  
  
She reached the kitchen without incident and   
propelled herself through the crowded place,   
dodging chefs, sous-chefs, busboys, and waiters.   
Still unaware of what had happened in the dining   
area of the restaurant, they regarded her   
strangely, but didn't impede her progress. When   
she was halfway to the back door, shots exploded a   
ceramic jar five centimeters from her head.   
Serena immediately ducked down behind the   
stainless steel counters and blessed the fact that   
this restaurant was wealthy enough to afford such   
expensive kitchen accoutrements.   
  
The other kitchen staff soon followed her   
example as bullets rained down in the kitchen from   
the semi-automatic fire of two bodyguards. In a   
momentary silence, Serena slowly peeked over the   
counters and identified the two large men in   
expensive suits shielding themselves just on the   
other side of the kitchen door. They were using   
Hechler & Koch MP-10 submachine guns, and it was   
obvious that they didn't care that innocent people   
might get caught in the crossfire. Serena crawled   
to the end of the counter and loosed several   
rounds at the kitchen door without aiming, while   
she simultaneously made a short run to the safety   
of the next counter. She was now only a few   
meters from the back door, but the rest of the way   
was completely open and without any kind of   
protection.   
  
The guards chose that moment to return fire   
and sprayed the counter she was hiding behind with   
a series of three-round bursts. Serena crouched   
low behind the counter and instinctively protected   
her head with her arms as bullets ricocheted off   
pots and pans, and food, glass, and ceramic debris   
from dishes showered everywhere.   
  
When the bodyguards next paused in their   
firing, Serena aimed more carefully around the   
side of the counter. She succeeded in catching   
one of the guards in the shoulder that was   
sticking out from the threshold of the kitchen   
door. 'Ok,' she thought, 'One down - at least   
temporarily- one more to go. Now's my chance. I   
have to get to that door!' Serena decided to   
take a gamble while the wounded guard was still   
incapacitated and pushed off from the barricaded   
counter toward the back door. As she slid the   
rest of the way to the door on her back, she   
emptied the rest of her magazine at the remaining   
guard. He, too, went down.   
  
Serena picked herself up and dashed out the   
back door into an alleyway. She half expected to   
find a car waiting there for her, but was   
disappointed to find the alley empty of everything   
except a garbage dumpster. "I should have   
known," she thought bitterly.  
  
At that moment, it began to rain. Serena   
forced herself into a jog that retraced her drive   
to the restaurant from the complex. Her last   
thought, as she distanced herself from the   
restaurant and the wailing sirens of the   
approaching emergency vehicles, was: "I'm gonna   
kill that bastard!"

---  
  
Hours later, when Serena finally stumbled   
back into the complex, she ignored the odd glances   
from the receptionist/guard and stepped into the   
elevator. She gratefully propped herself up   
against the elevator walls. She was totally   
drenched: her dress was completely ruined, her   
hair was plastered to her forehead and had long   
since fallen out of its up-do, and she was   
shivering from the cold.  
  
She tiredly walked from the elevator to her   
room. When she opened her door, Serena was   
surprised to see Seiya sitting calmly at her desk,   
waiting for her.   
  
"The window. It was bricked closed!" she   
told him in an expressionless, tired voice.  
  
He merely smiled and said, "Of course it was."  
  
The reality, that this had all been part of   
the test, crashed down on Serena. She stood there   
in the doorway for a moment, unable to comprehend   
the situation. The brutality of it all! Then,   
shock turned to indignation and fury. It was the   
final straw coming on top of the reaction from   
what she had experienced already. She completely   
came undone and lost what little was left of her   
sanity. With an inarticulate cry, Serena launched   
herself at him with all of her remaining strength.  
  
"YOU SON OF A BITCH!" she screeched, arms   
flailing, legs kicking, as she attacked him in   
blind rage. He grabbed her, but she continued to   
struggle and they fell to the floor. She beat her   
fists against his chest, half weeping, and half   
screaming in hysteria. Finally, he pinned her   
down under him to stop her, but she didn't stop.  
  
"It was a test! It's all over now! It's   
over!" he shouted at her, trying to stop her   
madness. "It's over! You get out tomorrow! You   
get out tomorrow!" he kept repeating.   
  
Gradually, his words penetrated the fog in   
her mind. Serena stopped struggling, and her sobs   
became whimpers as she cried for the terrible   
things she had done that night.  
  
"Shh... shh.... It's over. You get out tomorrow.   
It's over." Seiya continued to whisper to her as   
he cradled her body close, warming her shivering   
form with his.  
  
Serena shed her last tear and shakily tried   
to take a deep breath but found it difficult   
because Seiya was still lying on top of her, his   
weight pressing down on her.  
  
"It's over. You get out tomorrow," he was   
still repeating, looking down at her tear-stained   
face, caressing her rain-soaked hair.  
  
As they stared at each other, a strange awareness   
crept over her. Their bodies were pressed together   
intimately, touching almost everywhere. Serena   
noticed the strange light in his eyes and wondered   
what it meant.   
  
Her question was answered when Seiya leaned down   
and pressed his lips to hers. Passionately, he   
engulfed her mouth, and she found herself responding   
in kind. A burst of warmth started inside her at the   
pressure of his mouth against hers. Her heart rate   
accelerated, and it began to beat erratically.   
  
One of his hands cradled the back of her neck,   
supporting her; the other hand slid down to caress   
her curves. He ran his tongue along the seam of   
her soft lips, and she parted them in response.   
He slipped his tongue inside her mouth and tasted   
her as she had never been tasted before. Consumed   
by the moment, Serena didn't stop to reflect on her   
reactions. Their tongues continued to dance   
together in a warring battle until they were both   
breathless.  
  
As suddenly as it had begun, it stopped. Seiya   
abruptly pulled his body off Serena's and stood up.   
She immediately felt the absence of his warmth.   
Refusing to meet her gaze, he continued to stand   
stiffly next to her, his eyes darting nervously   
around the room.   
  
Why was he being so cold and distant all of a   
sudden? Was she so disgusting to him that he   
couldn't even look at her? It was her first kiss,   
and Serena wondered desperately what she had done   
wrong. A sick feeling hit the pit of her stomach   
as the next thought formed in her mind: was this   
another twisted kind of test??   
  
She silently took hold of herself, forcing back   
the bitter emotions. Pasting a blank mask on her   
face, she stood up slowly. She didn't even glance   
at him as she walked to the bathroom adjoining her   
room. Serena paused briefly in the doorway and   
turned back to face him.  
  
She stared bleakly into his eyes. "I'll   
never kiss you again," she told him in a soft   
voice that carried nonetheless. "Never."  
  
With that simple statement, Serena entered   
the bathroom and shut the door behind her.   
  
---  
  
AN: Wow! Some tense moments there, huh? Did anyone  
Recognize the dress Trista gave to Serena?  
  
Where will Serena go from here, now that her   
training is over? How will Seiya react to what has   
happened? Stay tuned to find out!  
  
For anybody interested in reading about a REAL   
debate over who actually wrote Shakespeare's plays   
(or for anyone who's a true lover of English   
literature), I highly recommend Jasper Fforde's   
"The Eyre Affair." It's one of the best (and   
funniest) books I've read in a long time, and it's   
a sure-fire hit for any J.K. Rowling fan.  
  
The quotation, "If music be the food of love,   
play on," comes from Shakespeare's "Twelfth Night"   
(or "What You Will"), Act I, Scene 1, line 2.  
  
Thanks to all you reviewers out there! To me,   
REVIEWS are the food of . . .well, more chapters I   
guess. I want lots before I "write on!" :)  
  
Next chapter: Serena leaves the complex and   
prepares herself for a life as an operative.   
  
Aglaia


	5. You Only Live Twice

La Femme Serena  
by Aglaia  
  
"The aim of life is to live, and to live means to   
be aware, joyously, drunkenly, serenely, divinely,   
aware." Henry Miller  
  
---  
  
Serena paused briefly in the doorway and   
turned back to face him.  
  
She stared bleakly into his eyes. "I'll   
never kiss you again," she told him in a soft   
voice that carried nonetheless. "Never."  
  
With that simple statement, Serena entered   
the bathroom and shut the door behind her.   
  
---  
  
Chapter 5: You Only Live Twice   
  
Once Serena had closed the bathroom door,   
she ran to the toilet and violently threw up.   
Her stomach heaved unsteadily in the aftermath of   
the night's events. Clutching the bowl of the   
toilet, Serena closed her eyes and tried to quell   
the queasy feelings brought on by the knowledge   
that she had ended the lives of several people   
whose names she didn't even know. "My God,"   
she thought. "What have I become?" When there   
was nothing left in her stomach, she picked herself   
up and cleaned up the mess.  
  
Serena stripped off her muddied,   
waterlogged, and torn dress. Unceremoniously   
dropping the now irredeemable pink mess on the   
floor, she stepped into the shower without waiting   
for the water to warm up. As she leaned against   
the shower stall, the cold water gradually became   
hot, but Serena made no move to lather her body   
with soap or shampoo. She merely stood under   
the shower's unrelenting spray, the warm water   
mixing with the tears that streamed down her face.   
  
For what seemed like hours, she stood there   
weeping, sobs wracking her small body as it shook   
from grief. Serena mourned. For the relationship   
that had ended before it had even begun, for the   
lives (guilty or not) that she had taken that   
night, but mostly, Serena mourned for herself and   
the innocence that had been ripped forcibly from   
her. And like water seeping through her cupped   
hands, once gone she knew it could never be   
retrieved. Serena cried until her throat was so   
sore it closed up; she cried until her eyes became   
puffy and red rimmed. She cried until she had no   
more tears left to shed.   
  
She began to scrub her body, at first half-  
heartedly, but then with increasing vigor. She   
ruthlessly scoured her skin until it turned an   
angry red, trying to clean herself of the   
invisible blood and slime that she imagined coated   
her body. Had there only been physical marks, she   
would have succeeded in cleaning them.   
Unfortunately, the real wounds left by the evening's   
adventures were emotional, and Serena knew she   
would never be completely healed. She wanted to   
wash way the night's memories and watch them run   
down the drain, yet no matter how hard she scrubbed,   
she felt as if she would never be clean again.   
  
Finally giving up, Serena stepped out of the   
shower and toweled herself off. Slipping into a   
comfortable pair of flannel pajamas, she prepared   
herself for bed. Moving slowly and meticulously   
through her routine, she brushed her teeth and   
hair, knowing that by the time she was finished,   
Seiya would be long gone.   
  
For a moment, Serena paused and remembered   
the feel of his kiss - her first kiss. It had   
been a carnal experience like none she had ever   
had. His lips had captured hers hungrily in an   
inescapable admission of desire. Intense emotions   
had coursed through her. Her skin had been   
incredibly sensitive to the feel of his body   
pressed intimately against her own. She had   
wanted him as she had never wanted anyone before,   
and the emotion scared her a little. Half of her   
was relieved when he had suddenly broken off the   
kiss, but the other half had secretly wanted more.   
When Serena recalled the waves of passion that had   
crashed against her psyche, the hairbrush in her   
hand trembled.  
  
Forcing herself to be calm, she breathed   
slowly in and out a few times and replaced the   
brush on the counter. She resolved not to think   
about it any more. Serena turned off the light and   
re-entered her bedroom. Although nothing in its   
design or appearance had changed, somehow the room   
seemed alien to her. It was as if an unseen force   
had invaded her room, changing it into something   
foreign. Seiya's presence inside it had altered   
it, and it would never be the same again.  
  
As Serena turned down the bed, she shakily   
realized that neither would she ever be the same   
again. She closed her eyes in a silent prayer   
for strength, intensely glad that tonight would   
be her last night sleeping in this room. She   
felt exhausted from the physical and emotional   
toll the night had taken on her. Sleep soon   
caught up with her and dragged her down into its   
dark, murky depths.

---  
  
As he sat in his darkened office that night,   
going over the final paperwork, Seiya thought   
about that unforgettable kiss. The memory was   
like an itch that he knew he shouldn't touch, but   
couldn't help scratching anyway. He knew that he   
was merely torturing himself, remembering a taste   
of something he could never have.   
  
He now berated himself for what he had done.   
It had been a stupid move, taking advantage of her   
weakened emotional state, but it wasn't what he   
had intended to do. He had been comforting her,   
admiring her incredible strength and compassion,   
but the feel of her body pressed up against him   
had driven him over the edge - beyond reason or   
consequences. Seiya felt ashamed of his actions,   
but there was little that he could do now. He had   
taken her rejection calmly, understanding that it   
was reasonable under the circumstances. After all,   
he didn't honestly believe that he deserved her,   
so how could he blame her for thinking the same?  
  
Seiya had seen and done many things in his   
career as an agent - too many things for him to   
have much of a conscience left. In a sense, Seiya   
had pushed her away and kept her at a distance   
because he didn't want to taint Serena with his   
bloodied hands. Trista was right: Serena was too   
pure, too good, to deserve this kind of life.   
Sadly, he realized that all too soon the job would   
rob her of her innocence. It was a difficult way to   
live, but Seiya had already devoted most of his life   
to the Project, and it was much too late to turn   
back now.  
  
Deep down, perhaps he realized how little   
chance they had together. In such a dangerous and   
complex world, how could love survive? To   
compound this, he and Serena were complete   
opposites, like night and day. She was an   
optimistic innocent, while he was a jaded and   
worldly cynic - an experienced professional who   
lived in darkness and bitterness. In many ways,   
Serena embodied all that was good in the world: her   
strength, her cheerfulness, her enjoyment of the   
simple things in life. She represented joy and a   
deep hope for humanity, the very things he had given   
his life in order to protect. There was a light   
that shone from within Serena that nothing had   
seemed to dim, not even the horrifying experiences   
of that evening, and Seiya was drawn to that light   
like a moth to a flame.  
  
Or perhaps he was more like a deer caught in   
the headlights: there was no doubt that Serena,   
with all that she represented, posed a danger to   
him. This innocent slip of a girl had him so   
mesmerized that he could hardly even comprehend   
his own actions. The birthday incident was a   
perfect example of this. Seiya had merely meant   
to cheer her up, show her some of the compassion   
and consideration that had never been shown to him   
as a recruit. He had only wanted to restore a   
little of her hope, her faith, her spirit. The   
cake was intended as an apology for not being able   
to allow her outside, but her simple gratitude at   
the small gesture had overwhelmed him. But no   
matter how much he wanted to give in to his   
feelings, he knew that it was impossible, now   
more than ever.   
  
Tiredly, he scrubbed his face in his hands,   
dwelling in exquisite torment over the   
relationship that might have been. Flipping   
through her file one last time, although he   
already knew it by heart, he beleaguered himself   
with her profile and how perfect she was: her   
intelligence, strength, spirit, toughness,   
humanity, and gentleness. It was a little bit   
like unraveling a confused and complicated knot   
of multicolored threads, only to find that all   
along it had been one solid piece of string.   
  
Somehow, whenever he was around her, that   
ache, that hollowness inside would go away. It   
was as if he was satisfying some deeply essential   
craving. He recalled with longing the delicious   
clean scent of her hair and the soft creaminess of   
her skin. "This might all have been yours," he   
deliberately told himself. "But you messed up,   
and now you owe it to her to set it right!"   
  
Now properly motivated, he turned back to   
the forms lying on his desk and worked with a   
vengeance. He wanted to expedite the paperwork   
for her release with all possible speed. Seiya   
labored tirelessly, working though the night and   
into the next morning. He deduced accurately that   
she would want to see as little of him as possible,   
so he stayed out of her way. It wasn't hard.   
After all, he knew all the places where she would   
likely be. Still, in a small corner of his heart,   
he yearned for her and for what could have been.

---  
  
Serena was called to his office at eleven   
the next morning. Her clouded eyes had dark   
circles under them, and she didn't feel very rested.   
Nightmares had tortured her during her sleep,   
forcing her to relive the terrifying and horrific   
events of the previous night. A parade of   
bloodied corpses had danced before her eyes in a   
grotesque serving line, begging her for their   
salvation, asking her why she had done it. But   
she had no answers to give them.   
  
Now, Serena accepted her guilt and knew it   
was something she would just have to live with.   
After all, she wasn't James Bond; there were no   
vodka martinis, sleek sports cars, or "bad guys"   
who got only their just desserts. The people she   
had killed last night were, like everyone else,   
only frail human beings. Composed probably of   
both good and bad, most of them had likely only   
been doing their jobs, but Serena had had her job   
to do as well. And unlike a Bond movie, at the   
end of the day there were no happy endings.   
  
She had already packed her minimal personal   
belongings and was more than ready to leave.   
Serena wanted to get the meeting over with as   
quickly as possible; she wanted to get away from   
this place of darkness and inhumanity. She strode   
calmly into Seiya's office for their appointment   
with her head held high and no sign of any   
recollection of what had happened the last   
evening.  
  
"Serena. Sit down," he spoke from behind   
his desk without looking up at her. He began his   
briefing in his usual cold and impersonal voice.   
"This is your new identity: Serena Tsukino, born   
of Ilene and Kenji Tsukino. Your parents immigrated   
to Canada from Japan not long before you were born.   
You lived in Montreal with your parents until they   
died of a car accident during your last year of high-  
school. After which, you went to the University of   
Toronto, where you studied business and marketing.   
Now you work for a large high-tech company as a   
junior marketing manager. Here is your birth   
certificate, passport, driver's license, health   
card, social insurance number, and all the other   
necessary documents." He handed her a package   
that she took calmly.  
  
"Inside, you'll find a profile of your new   
'history' and background. I suggest you read it   
over, memorize it, and then destroy it for   
security's sake. Do not, for any reason whatsoever,   
break cover. This is the only full identity that   
we will provide you with, so there's no room for   
mistakes. Don't forget to brush up on your   
Japanese to make the story credible. You'll have   
two months to set yourself up on the outside: get   
an apartment, flesh out your cover story, and re-  
integrate yourself with the world. As soon as   
you have an apartment, call the number listed in   
the package and tell the Project directory your   
new address and phone number. You'll have a bank   
account with all the money you'll need; that   
information is also in the package. For now,   
here's five hundred dollars for your immediate   
necessities." He passed over a slim envelope   
filled with cash.  
  
"Lastly, this is a double electronic key   
card for access to the complex; it allows you to   
go almost anywhere within the complex. At the   
end of the two months, you'll receive a phone   
call with new instructions. Your code name will   
be 'Moon.' Do you have any questions?"   
  
He then looked up and met her eyes equably.   
His rigid face showed no hint of emotion.  
  
"No," she told him, meeting his gaze without   
flinching.  
  
"Good luck, Serena."  
  
She picked up the key card, the envelope,   
and the package, leaving his office without   
another word.   
  
Serena returned to her room to pick up her   
two small bags. She glanced around the place she   
had lived in for the past two years, making sure   
she had not left anything important behind;   
without a hint of regret, she closed the door on   
the room for the last time. Then, she decided to   
pay one final visit to Trista to say goodbye.   
This time, there were no tears - only a shared   
sense of gratitude.   
  
Once again, they sat together, calmly   
sipping tea in the same unique wicker furniture in   
which Serena had been so uncomfortable that first   
day. In the background, the soft melodies of one   
of Strauss' waltzes played.   
  
Now, as Trista observed Serena, she saw   
clearly that the awkwardness and shyness was gone;   
replacing that once self-conscious girl was a   
beautiful, mature, confident, and sophisticated   
woman. The transformation was so complete that   
it was hard to imagine Serena as the maladroit,   
homeless orphan that had first been recruited   
into the Project, and Trista swelled with pride   
for her protégé.  
  
They sat in comfortable silence for a few   
minutes. After all they had shared together,   
there was no need for words now. Finally, Serena   
worked up the courage to ask Trista the burning   
question that she had wanted to ask since the day   
they had met:  
  
"Trista . . . ? Were you once . . . like   
me?"  
  
Trista merely gave her a small, sad smile,   
and Serena knew the answer.  
  
"Thank you again, Trista, for everything you   
have given me."  
  
The two women hugged one last time. Serena   
picked up her bags, and then she made her final   
ascent up the elevator.

---  
  
Serena stepped outside into the bright   
sunshine feeling liberated. In many ways, she   
felt like a new woman. Based on the paperwork in   
the package, she literally was; Serena Arroway was   
dead, but Serena Tsukino had been born. She vowed   
not to let her second chance at life slip her by   
and was determined to live it to its fullest. She   
felt a heady sense of freedom, and her spirits   
lifted with the almost limitless possibilities   
ahead of her.  
  
She happened to glance down at the double   
key card in her hand, and she realized suddenly   
that this freedom was an illusion: she was outside   
because they wanted her to be. More importantly,   
the access card reminded her of Seiya and all the   
associated responsibilities. She wished now that   
he had never given her the card, all-powerful   
though it was. Here in the light of day, with open   
skies and warm breezes around her, the card seemed   
like a leash - a shadow that would claim a hold   
on a part of her, a reminder of the dark things she   
had done, and a portent of more dark things to come.  
  
With a dismissive shake of her head, Serena   
put the depressing thoughts aside and told herself   
to stop thinking about the past. She began   
walking down the busy street, her two bags slung   
over her shoulder. She stopped at a newsstand to   
purchase a paper. With a polite "Thank you," she   
accepted her change and her newspaper from the   
attendant. Serena flipped immediately to the   
classified section and read through the available   
apartment listings. She used a highlighter to   
circle a few with the right location and price   
range. Then, she walked to a nearby phone booth   
and made appointments to see the apartments for   
later that day.

---  
  
She met with the realtor and made the usual   
small talk about her profession, living habits,   
and preferences. It was seven o'clock, and Serena   
was exhausted after her day of apartment hunting.   
  
"This will be the last place I look at for   
the day," she decided. She had already viewed   
six different places that afternoon, and none had   
been right. Most of the six had been suitable,   
but they had all lacked a certain something -   
something elusive and special. She didn't know   
what it was, but there was something that she was   
subconsciously looking for. After seeing six   
places and talking with six real estate agents,   
Serena was tired and disappointed. At this point,   
she was ready to throw in the towel and call it a   
day.  
  
"Maybe I should blow off this last one and   
just check into a hotel." she thought despondently.   
"No, no. I'm already here. I might as well just   
see the place." She promised herself a warm meal   
and a hot bath as soon as they were done.  
  
The realtor kept up a cheerful prattling of   
inane chatter as they rode up the elevator to the   
apartment. Luckily, he didn't seem to expect much   
response from her, other than an occasional murmur   
of agreement.   
  
"Well, here we are. You're gonna love this   
place. It used to be an artist's loft - very   
quiet, and you get great light all year round," he   
told her.  
  
He pulled out a giant ring full of similar-  
looking keys, fitted the correct one into the   
lock, and swung open the door. As he walked in,   
he continued his one-sided discourse about the   
apartment. Serena tuned him out while she admired   
the place. It was perfect!  
  
The loft was made up of vast open spaces,   
totally unfurnished. There were high, vaulted   
ceilings with some sturdy wood beams cutting   
across it. The varnished hardwood floors -   
probably pine - were of an excellent quality.   
Sunlight streamed into the apartment from the   
numerous skylights and wide windows, illuminating   
the cheerful red brick of the outer walls. There   
was a turn-of-the-century stone fireplace at one   
end of the apartment.   
  
Already she could imagine the possibilities   
for this apartment. The simplicity and openness   
of the place appealed to Serena. It had a lot of   
potential and was screaming for someone to make it   
into a home - something with personality and   
character. Best of all, it was affordable and   
located at a reasonable distance from the complex:   
she didn't want to have to travel far to get there,   
but at the same time she wanted to be as far as   
possible from it. Serena didn't want to have to   
come across the complex in the course of her daily   
life; she shuddered at the thought of having to   
pass it by on a regular basis. It would be an   
intrusion on the normalcy she desired for her life.   
  
"Out of sight, out of mind," she speculated   
absently. "I hope it's true."  
  
Serena tuned back in to what the realtor was   
saying, just as he asked her, "... so what do you   
think?"  
  
"I'll take it."

---  
  
One week later, Serena had moved into her   
loft apartment. She didn't have any furniture   
yet, but she was rather excited at the prospect of   
decorating everything from scratch. She had had a   
stainless-steel kitchen set already installed,   
including a refrigerator, a microwave, and a   
stove. She had also bought some china, cutlery,   
and a few pots and pans. With the kitchen ready,   
she decided to make a run to the local grocery   
store.  
  
She had walked the three blocks to the small   
establishment nearest to her apartment. Now, as   
she pushed her empty shopping cart up and down the   
aisles, she realized how foolish and naïve she had   
been.   
  
Serena had no idea what to do.   
  
She had never cooked in her life; for most   
of it, food had been a luxury she could barely   
afford. Now that she could afford it (and much   
more besides), she had no idea what to buy. At   
least half the things she saw in the store were   
totally baffling.   
  
What part of the cow did "brisket" come   
from? Were artichokes fruits, vegetables, or   
something else entirely? And how did one eat   
"chick peas"? Not only did she not recognize  
these items, but she had no idea how to cook  
them. For that matter, she didn't know how to  
cook at all!  
  
Serena realized depressingly that her   
previous domestic hopes had been overly   
optimistic. She felt incredibly embarrassed and   
now wished that she had never set foot in the food   
market. She had only wanted to imbue her life   
with some conventionality and routine. Now more   
than ever, Serena was afraid of failing. Her   
cheeks flushed with shame and embarrassment, her   
eyes bright with unshed tears, Serena wandered   
through the store like a lost puppy, gazing   
forlornly around her.   
  
"Hi, there! Can I give you a hand with   
anything?" a friendly voice inquired.  
  
"Oh!" Serena spun around in surprise to find   
a tall, shapely brunette smiling encouragingly at   
her.   
  
The woman looked to be in her mid-twenties.   
Her peaches-and-cream complexion sparkled with   
youth. Her long, chocolate-colored hair was tied   
up in a high ponytail at the top of her crown.   
She was wearing comfortable, athletic clothing:   
a sporty green tracksuit with twin white stripes   
running down the side-seams and crisp white   
sneakers. The woman's stunning figure was   
discernable even through the casual clothing.   
Although she was very tall, around six feet Serena   
guessed, this woman was not in the least   
intimidating. Her hearty attitude and winsome   
smile was cheering.  
  
"You look a little lost. Is there anything   
I can do?" the stranger gaily persisted.  
  
"Well, you see . . ." Serena temporized,   
somewhat reluctant to confess her plight to a   
complete stranger. It was the woman's   
compassionate gaze, however, that convinced Serena   
to tell her the problem. "I've never cooked before,   
and I have no idea what I'm doing," she finished   
in a whisper.  
  
Instead of laughing at Serena or turning   
away in derision, the Amazon merely blinked in   
surprise and said, "Well, that's an easy problem   
to fix. Just follow me. I'll show you what you   
need to know. My name's Lita."  
  
"I'm Serena. It's nice to meet you."  
  
"Glad to meet you too! Now, for your first   
meal, we should stick to something fairly easy..."  
  
Lita led Serena around the store, filling   
the shopping cart with food and supplies,   
simultaneously teaching Serena the proper way to   
select the freshest ingredients. Serena paid   
avid attention to everything Lita said and did,   
taking mental notes. When they had completed   
their shopping and had proceeded to the cash,   
Serena thanked Lita profusely.  
  
"Thank you so much, Lita. You're an   
absolute lifesaver. I really can't even begin to   
thank you enough for teaching me so much."  
  
"Hey, it's no problem, Serena. I was glad   
to help." Lita felt strangely drawn to the petite   
blond. Serena had the demeanor of an angel and   
seemed rather innocent. For some reason, Lita   
felt oddly protective of her and wanted to help   
her as much as possible. "Listen, do you need   
any help preparing the food? I'm a chef, you see,   
so I know a little something about cooking. I'd   
be happy to come over and give you a cooking   
lesson..."  
  
Serena was amazed by the offer. Aside from   
with Trista, she had never experienced much   
kindness and was even more astounded to find it in   
a total stranger. Lita was obviously a very warm   
and friendly person, but Serena could tell that   
she was fierce in her own way. This made Serena   
trust her immediately.   
  
Serena had never really had a friend before.   
Prior to joining the Project, she had always been   
the outcast. Strangely enough it was not until   
she had come to the cold environment of the   
Project that she had experienced the pleasures of   
friendship. Now, like the giggling and whispering   
girls of her youth, she craved the closeness of a   
confidante and the warm feeling of companionship.   
And so, Serena eagerly accepted Lita's offer.  
  
The two walked back to Serena's loft,   
sharing the burden of carrying the groceries.   
Serena was flattered when Lita expressed her   
delight over the design of the loft, although it   
was miles away from being finished. It pleased   
Serena that Lita could appreciate its   
possibilities.   
  
The kitchen was the only finished room in   
the apartment, and Lita admired its charmingly   
homey design. The stainless steel appliances had   
been arranged along the walls with complimenting   
natural wood cabinets, cupboards, and shelves.   
A wall of exposed red brick contrasted with the   
stainless steel and was decorated with a few   
framed prints. A large, wedge-shaped island was   
angled as the centerpiece of the open room. Along   
one side of the island Serena had placed four   
high, wooden, pine stools. The countertops,   
cupboards, and shelving were made of solid birch   
with a soft finish; the drawers had silver handles.   
The glass-fronted cabinets allowed you to see what   
was inside. The backsplash along the walls was a   
mishmash of small ceramic tiles in pale pastel   
colors arranged in cool spiral patterns. The floor   
was made of large, two-toned slate tiles in   
alternating cream and coffee colors. Pots hung   
above the sink, giving the kitchen area a friendly   
finishing touch. Lita loved the open concept and   
modern rustic style that was completely suited to   
the loft.  
  
"My idol, Isabella Beeton, always said that   
the kitchen is the 'great laboratory of the   
household!'" pronounced Lita in approval of   
Serena's kitchen. "And yours sure is. So let's   
get cooking!"   
  
After putting away the newly bought   
groceries, Lita began to show Serena the basics of   
food preparation. They thoroughly washed the   
vegetables for the salad and set water to boil for   
the pasta. While they prepared the ingredients,   
they joked and laughed together, getting to know   
one another.   
  
Serena was leery at first about revealing   
information about herself. The Project had   
taught her to be discreet, cautious almost to   
the point of paranoia. Lita was so open about   
her own life, however, that Serena couldn't help   
but be charmed. In fact, Lita didn't shy away   
from giving her opinions about anything at all.   
While this was one of the things she liked best   
about Lita, especially compared with the absolute   
secrecy that ruled the Project, it made her feel   
guilty for having to lie to Lita. Serena longed   
to reciprocate the trust offered by Lita's honesty   
and sincerity. But since she was under strict   
orders not to break her cover, she forced herself   
to speak the glib lies she had rehearsed.  
  
Serena discovered that they had had similar   
backgrounds. Lita had also lost her parents at an   
early age. Like Serena, she had been shunted   
from one foster home to the next until she had   
come of age.   
  
Now, Lita was the head chef of a small but   
thriving restaurant located downtown. She talked   
enthusiastically about her job, and it was obvious   
that she had a deep passion for cooking. Her   
consummate skill was evident in the way she   
magically threw together the ingredients of their   
simple but delicious meal.   
  
She was such a strong person, yet Serena   
recognized the warm heart that the tough shell   
concealed. Serena also identified with Lita's   
deep craving for companionship. They were only a   
year apart in age, and Serena felt a bond form   
between them that drew them close together. By   
the time they had sat down to the meal of salad   
and spaghetti, the two were firm friends and had   
made arrangements for more cooking lessons.

---  
  
The two months flew by for Serena. When she   
wasn't decorating her apartment, she was   
researching her "job" at the high-tech firm. In   
her spare time, she took cooking lessons from Lita   
and used language tapes to improve her Japanese.   
When Serena discovered that her last name sounded   
like "of the Moon," she wondered who had decided   
on her code-name.   
  
In the meantime, Serena and Lita made   
numerous shopping excursions. Hardly a day went   
by that they didn't at least talk together on   
the phone. Lita easily accepted Serena's cover   
story and was not in the least curious about it.   
Together, they watched movies and went out to   
dinner, always experimenting with various   
restaurants (Lita was usually checking out the   
competition).   
  
As she sat waiting for Lita in a booth at   
their usual café, Serena wondered about her new   
friend. It had not taken very long for Serena to   
realize that Lita was rather man-hungry. Lita   
seemed desperate to find a boyfriend. She dated   
often, but the men she dated never lasted long.   
Invariably, they broke up with her within the first   
month of dating, breaking her heart in the process -   
at least until the next guy came along.   
  
Serena couldn't understand why Lita didn't   
have a steady boyfriend when she had so many great   
qualities in addition to her stunning looks.   
Perhaps it was because Lita a little too   
aggressive when it came to men. She was always   
pointing out prospective guys wherever they went.   
After all, one of the reasons that the Crown   
Arcade was their "usual" café, was the waiter-cum-  
manager, Andrew. It was obvious to Serena that   
Lita had a huge crush on the blond-haired, green-  
eyed man who always served them. Each time they   
came here, Lita would flirt shamelessly while   
Andrew took down their orders. It was getting to   
be something of an embarrassment.  
  
Lita was a true romantic at heart, in spite   
of her sometimes flippant remarks. She always   
tried so hard with the guys she dated, pouring   
heart and soul into every relationship. And each   
time they broke up with her, Serena could see how   
it ate away at Lita's confidence.  
  
"Can I get you anything, Serena?" Andrew's   
cheerful voice interrupted her gloomy thoughts.  
  
"Oh, no thanks, Andrew. I'm waiting for   
Lita. She shouldn't be long. How are things   
with you?"  
  
"Can't complain. Things have been so hectic   
around here lately that I can hardly wait for my   
vacation time to come up. Rita and I are going to   
take a week off and go on a Caribbean cruise."   
Andrew's eyes began to take on a glazed look as   
soon as he mentioned Rita. The man was obviously  
madly in love with his girlfriend.   
  
"That sounds wonderful, Andrew! You're so   
lucky."  
  
"I sure am. A whole week! Just me, Rita,   
warm weather, sandy beaches, and lots of piña   
coladas."  
  
"If I don't see you, have a good time OK?   
And say 'hi' to Rita for me."  
  
"Sure, thanks. Just let me know when you   
want to order."  
  
"Thanks, I will."  
  
Serena watched as Andrew's snugly jean-clad   
derrière strode away from her booth. She had to   
admit that Andrew was certainly a delectable piece   
of eye-candy, and extremely nice to boot. It   
wasn't hard to understand why Lita liked him so   
much. It was just too bad that Andrew was   
completely devoted to his girlfriend. Lita didn't   
stand a chance.   
  
Serena sighed resignedly. When would Lita   
find a nice, available guy? So far, of the ones   
Serena had met, the men Lita dated were jerks,   
totally undeserving of Lita's generosity. Most   
were self-centered and egotistical, which   
explained why they ended up breaking Lita's heart.   
  
"Serena!"  
  
Serena looked up to see Lita coming towards   
her trailing a handsome man who had the physique   
of a body-builder.  
  
"Hi! Sorry I'm late, but I just came from   
the gym. I want to introduce you to someone I met   
there. Charles, this is Serena. Serena, Charles,"   
Lita beamed.  
  
"Pleasure," Serena said with a polite smile.  
  
"It certainly is," leered Charles, sweeping   
his eyes obviously up and down Serena's figure.  
  
"Ugh!" thought Serena in revulsion, glancing   
quickly to see if Lita had noticed Charles'   
insensitivity. Unfortunately, from the shy,   
blushing smile on her face, it looked as if Lita   
was completely oblivious to Charles lesser qualities.   
"What does Lita see in this guy?! OK, he's built   
like an Adonis, but surely Lita can do better than   
this asshole?"  
  
"Charles and I met at the gym. I hope you   
don't mind, Serena, but I invited Charles to come   
to the movies with us," Lita clung to Charles' arm   
as if it was a lifeline.  
  
"Oh sure. That sounds fine," Serena replied   
through the clenched teeth of her fake smile. She   
watched as Charles fixed his stare at Lita's   
ample chest. "So much for a relaxing evening   
with friends," she thought in resignation.

---  
  
Serena perused the titles lining the shelves   
in the used bookstore. There were many   
fascinating topics contained in the small but   
elegant store designed with a rich maple and brass   
décor. The shelves ran from the floor to the   
ceiling all the way around the shop, and had   
several wide aisles in between. Serena had always   
loved the musty smell of books mixed in with the   
natural aroma of the wood and the pine scent of   
wood polish. She found the quiet especially   
comforting. Serena took her time strolling   
through the aisles, pausing frequently to look at   
one book or another. The shop held books in a   
wide range of subjects, from science fiction to   
biographies, from Jane Austen to Immanuel Kant,   
from Darwin to Goethe.   
  
Her eyes lighted on an early edition of   
Tolkien's trilogy, "The Lord of the Rings." This   
had always been a favorite of hers. It was one of   
the only happy memories she had of her childhood.   
At the time, most of her peers had ridiculed her   
for her tastes, their limited attention spans not   
long enough to get them through even the prologue.   
While Tolkien had been criticized by some for   
being verbose, Serena had always been fascinated   
by the story's struggle for good against   
overwhelming evil - a fight against the onset of   
industrialization and dependence on technology -   
but, most importantly, a struggle of ultimate   
humanity and hope in the midst of darkness,   
despair, and death.   
  
Reflecting upon the story now, Serena was   
struck by the similarities in her current   
situation. Trapped into working for an   
organization whose deeds forced her into darkness,   
she strove to hold on to herself and her own   
humanity. Even now, she still had nightmares   
about the fateful night that she had graduated   
from the Project's training facility. Fascinated   
by the association, she found she was eager to re-  
read Tolkien's tale.   
  
She gingerly took the books off the shelf   
and opened the first one. Fingering the texture   
of the pages, Serena sighed in contentment. This   
was one shop she would definitely have to return   
to. Not only were there some great finds, but the   
ambiance was great as well.  
  
She was always very aware of her surroundings,   
having become extremely sensitive to atmosphere as   
a result of her training with the Project. Now,   
every time she entered a room, Serena would scan   
it automatically. It was an almost subconscious   
categorization of the occupants of the room - a   
brief analysis of the threat-potential each posed -   
and an awareness of the spatial arrangements of   
that room.   
  
For example, she now knew without having to   
look that the only other customers in the bookshop   
were an elderly woman in the self-help section who   
had a cold and an overweight man in his thirties   
browsing through some technical manuals. She knew   
without having to think about it that it would take   
seven steps for her to reach the man and twelve to   
reach the old woman. In addition to which, ever   
since the ill-fated night of her final test,   
Serena made sure she always knew where the exits   
were and kept a clear route to at least one of them   
at all times. Never again did she want to feel   
so trapped and helpless.   
  
So it was that she became immediately aware   
of the change in air-pressure and noise that   
heralded the opening of the front door and the   
entrance of someone new. Not looking up right   
away, it wasn't until Serena caught a brief glimpse   
of the new customer out of the corner of her eye   
that she felt a sudden shock and fear pass through   
her. In her fleeting look, she managed to take   
in the tall figure and black hair.  
  
Seiya! What was he doing here? How had he   
found her? Why had he come? Was he here to send   
her on another mission?   
  
A mixture of dread and anticipation gripped   
her, but she kept herself from looking up at Seiya.   
She knew that he would disapprove of any kind of   
reaction on her part. She waited for him to   
approach her, her nerves straining to their breaking   
point. The seconds crawled by tortuously, and still   
he hadn't moved toward her. Out of the corners of   
her eyes, she tried to keep a close watch on his   
meandering path through the store while she pretended   
to flip through her books.  
  
Serena teetered on a knife-edge of indecision,   
her emotions worked up to a fever-pitch. What   
was he waiting for? Would he pretend to be a   
stranger? What if this was some new kind of test?   
Or worse, what if he tried to kiss her again??   
God, what would she do if he did? For that matter,   
what would she do if he didn't?? How should she re-  
  
Her thoughts were short circuited when he   
brushed past her, bumping into her slightly.   
  
"Oh!" she exclaimed involuntarily, dropping   
her books, and spinning quickly around to face   
him. But the sight that met her eyes was not the   
one she was expecting.   
  
It wasn't Seiya.  
  
For a moment, her brain couldn't comprehend   
what had happened. The man standing in front of   
her had the same lantern jaw, the same broad   
shoulders, and the same boyishly appealing,   
unruly, black hair, but Serena knew immediately   
that it wasn't Seiya. This man wasn't wearing   
the diamond earring that she had come to associate   
with Seiya. This man carried himself much more   
loosely, and there was no aura of rigid restraint   
about him. His face had an open quality that was   
very appealing. A strong sense of vertigo overtook   
her, only adding to Serena's confusion. Who was   
this guy?  
  
It was like a scene out of a romance novel.   
Staring straight at her was the stereotypical tall,   
dark, and handsome stranger; however, this man   
could never be considered anything but   
exceptional. He was tall, towering over her by   
almost a foot. Much like Seiya's, his physique   
was slim and athletic. His eyes, however, had a   
warmth and gentleness that would have been   
completely foreign in Seiya. They were of the   
most piercing blue, the color of storm-tossed   
waves - waves that, if Serena were completely   
honest with herself, she wanted to drown in.   
Dressed in an casual outfit of a sweater and   
khakis, he looked as if he had just stepped out   
of a Kenneth Cole advertisement.  
  
"I'm sorry," he apologized in a friendly   
voice. He bent down and picked up the books she   
had so negligently dropped. He glanced quickly   
at the titles before handing them gently back to   
her, "Here."  
  
"Oh!" she said again, a rosy blush   
overspreading her face. Her arms automatically   
accepted the books.  
  
"Thank you," she said finally, feeling rather   
flustered.  
  
"Anything for another Tolkien fan," he   
replied softly with a quirky half-smile.   
  
Serena couldn't help but respond to that   
smile with one of her own. Unable to think of an   
appropriate response, she merely nodded her head   
in thanks. Forcing herself to break the spell of   
his undeniable charm, Serena finally tore her eyes   
away from his mesmerizing glance. She walked to   
the cash and paid for the books, aware of his eyes   
following her. She was in a daze, hardly aware of   
her actions. It was not until she was out of the   
store and halfway down the block - still clutching   
the books to her chest - that she awoke from her   
dream-like state.  
  
"Way to go, Serena," she congratulated   
herself. "You made a total fool of yourself.   
That guy must have thought you were crazy or   
something. Imagining that you saw Seiya!"  
  
That thought made her wonder if and when   
she ever would see Seiya again. "Not that I want   
to," she told herself sternly. "That jerk!"   
She was forcibly reminded of the kiss they had   
shared. Her lips tingled in response as the   
memory became vivid. What was wrong with her?   
Would she ever be able to forget about what had   
happened that night?  
  
Her thoughts about Seiya were still a mass   
of turmoil and confusion. Making an effort,   
Serena put them out of her mind for the moment   
and forced herself to take one step at a time.  
  
---  
AN: It's been a little longer than my usual update   
interval, but my computer crashed and burned,   
leaving me to reconstruct this chapter from the   
ashes. And like the phoenix that rose from the   
proverbial ashes, I hope this chapter turned out   
equally well.  
  
Big, big thanks go out to Syrinx. Thank you for   
all your insight! You push me to new heights.   
  
Reminder: I want FEEDBACK, FEEDBACK, and more   
FEEDBACK! Again, my humble thanks to all the   
reviewers - you know what keeps me going!  
  
Next chapter: the allotted two months are up, and   
Serena gets that all-important phone call.  
  
Aglaia


	6. Out Of Time

La Femme Serena  
by Aglaia  
  
PREACHER: "Einstein's theory of relativity. Grab hold   
of a hot pan, and a second can seem like an hour. Put   
your hands on a hot woman, an hour can seem like a   
second. It's all relative."   
TOM SCOGGINS: "I spent four years at CalTech, and   
that's the best physics explanation I've ever heard."   
LL Cool J and Michael Rapaport - "Deep Blue Sea"  
  
---  
  
Chapter 6: Out of Time  
  
Serena's eyes were trained mechanically on   
her target. She moved automatically, aiming at the   
arms dealer's head and pulling the trigger on the   
gun in her hands. Three shots sounded loudly in   
her ears.   
  
She watched the bullets impact the dealer's   
head and chest in slow motion. His eyes bulged and   
a look of shock and incomprehension flitted   
momentarily across his face. As the light of   
comprehension left his eyes, his body slumped face-  
first onto the table.   
  
She was unable to move or speak. The minutes   
passed, and Serena continued to stare in morbid   
fascination at the messy splatter - all that   
remained of the back of the head. Unable to look   
away, Serena began to feel a creeping fear   
slithering up her spine and forcing its way into   
her consciousness. She moved involuntarily forward   
and watched as her own hand moved to touch the   
corpse. She gazed helplessly while her hand   
callously turned the body to its side and revealed   
what was left of the face.   
  
Open eyes stared sightlessly at nothing, a   
frozen expression on the contorted face...  
  
...A face that once belonged to Lita...  
  
She found her hands covered in blood - Lita's   
blood. She frantically tried to wipe off the   
sticky substance, but the more she did, the more   
the bloodstains spread. It spread until it covered   
her arms, her body, and soon she was drenched in it   
from head to toe.   
  
Suddenly finding her voice again, Serena   
began to scream. She screamed, and screamed, and   
screamed...  
  
Serena came awake with a start.   
She was soaked in sweat, tangled chaotically   
in her own blankets. A great weight was pressing   
down on her chest, preventing her from breathing   
properly. She took short, shallow gasps, but she   
continued to feel weak and shaky. Her heart   
pounded loudly in her ears, echoing together with   
the distant sound of her own scream of terror.  
  
A dream. It was all a dream.  
  
Serena tried to calm herself by taking deeper   
breaths. Glancing frantically around her bedroom,   
she took comfort from the familiar: the sliver of   
light that slipped past her curtains to dance on the   
wall, the canopied ceiling over her bed, the sounds   
of the night traffic outside her window. Gradually,   
as reality reasserted itself, her breathing and   
heart rate returned to normal.  
  
Serena continued to lie in bed staring up at   
the canopy, waiting for the feeling of weakness and   
quivering to pass. She felt as if she hardly had   
the strength to keep breathing, let alone move her   
body. This wasn't the first time she had   
experienced this particular nightmare. Since the   
night she had left the complex, the nightmares had   
been slowly decreasing in frequency, and she had   
been hoping that they would stop altogether. But   
they hadn't.  
  
She was still affected by that night in other   
ways as well. Sometimes when Serena was eating in   
a restaurant, the motions of the waiter or the music   
being played would cause the events of that night to   
come rushing back to her as if she were experiencing   
them all over again. The emotions, the tension, the   
feeling of helplessness - it would all appear before   
her again, paralyzing her for a few seconds before   
she recollected where she really was. She frequently   
came out of these flashbacks trembling uncontrollably   
and with a need to escape outdoors. Serena had also   
become somewhat fixated and obsessed by a fear of   
being trapped, often going to great lengths to avoid   
being in small, enclosed spaces.   
  
So far, no one had noticed her strange   
behavior. She was thankful that Lita had never   
been around when one of these episodes occurred.   
Talking with Lita about normal things allowed her   
to forget, at least temporarily, and Serena's   
regular exercise regimen helped to distract her   
from the feelings of guilt and anxiety that often   
preoccupied her thoughts. She would frequently   
seek the refuge of her favorite bookstore, although   
she never again saw Seiya's look-a-like.   
  
Reminded that Lita was supposed to come over   
later that day, Serena tried to go back to sleep.   
If she didn't want Lita to find out that something   
was wrong, she needed to get some rest. She used   
one of the breathing techniques the Project had   
taught her, trying to fall into that easy trance   
which comes with meditating. Turning on her stereo   
with the remote, Serena listened to the soothing   
notes of her favorite piece, Mozart's symphony in G   
minor, as she drifted more peacefully back into   
unconsciousness.

---  
  
Serena puttered happily about her kitchen.   
She glanced at the clock to make sure she had enough   
time to complete the meal before Lita's arrival for   
their girls' night in. They were planning on   
relaxing by having dinner and watching a movie   
together.  
  
From her well-stocked spice rack, Serena took   
out the ingredients she needed in preparation to   
making a marinade for the chicken she would later   
grill. She placed some sage, thyme, oregano, and   
garlic on the counter next to a large mixing bowl.   
While she soaked the boneless chicken breasts   
in the marinade, Serena wondered how her friend had   
been doing lately. Lita had become rather absorbed   
with Charles, leaving very little time to hang out   
with Serena. After the fiasco at the movies a few   
weeks ago, during which Serena had been forced to   
watch as Lita drooled adoringly and obliviously over   
Charles while he said stupid, macho things and   
checked out every girl they saw, Serena had refused   
to accompany them on any more dates. If Serena had   
to listen to one more comment about how much of a   
"chick-magnet" Charles thought he was, she thought   
that she might go mad.  
  
She sighed once again over her friend's poor   
judgment about men. Now that Serena thought about   
it, Lita had been dating Charles for two and a half   
weeks already. It was nearing that critical stage   
when Lita's boyfriends tended to dump her. Serena   
could only hope that she wouldn't have to pick up   
the pieces of her friend's broken heart tonight.   
The only heart mending she was planning on dealing   
with were the ones in the romantic comedy she had   
rented.  
  
It was really strange the way that Lita's   
boyfriends tended to dump her at around the three-  
week mark. Serena wondered what happened to cause   
them to leave. Lita could be quite aggressive and   
forceful at times, particularly when anything   
threatened someone or something she loved. But   
Serena knew for a fact that she also had a much   
softer side.  
  
The first time Serena had ever seen under   
Lita's confident outer shell was a month ago when   
David had broken up with her. When the shell   
cracked, it had split wide open, revealing a   
vulnerable, needy side to Lita that Serena had   
never seen before.   
  
Lita had come crying to Serena's apartment,   
her cheeks blotchy from the tears. Serena had been   
trying out a new recipe at the time, not expecting   
any visitors, when the doorbell had rung...  
  
"Coming!" she called out. Serena quickly   
wiped her hands on her apron and walked to the door.   
Taking a quick peek through the eyehole, she was   
surprised to find Lita with a tear-streaked face,   
looking miserable. Serena immediately swung open   
the door.  
  
"Lita! What's wrong?"  
  
Lita fell sobbing into Serena's arms.   
Gradually, from the muffled words interspersed with   
more tears, Serena came to understand that her   
boyfriend, David, had dumped her.  
  
'Oh, Lita. When will you learn?' Serena   
thought with a sigh. The news had hardly come as a   
surprise, given the type of asshole David was.  
  
"Shhh... It's okay, Lita. It's gonna be okay."   
Serena tried to comfort her friend. Gently closing   
the door and leading Lita to the living room couch,   
she grabbed a box of tissues and tried to dry her   
friend's eyes.  
  
"Do you want to talk about what happened?"   
she asked gently.  
  
Lita nodded miserably and blew her nose.   
Still sniffling, she slowly gathered her courage   
and haltingly began her story.   
  
"I-I had the day off work today, so this   
m-morning, I made a s-s-spinach quiche for David.   
You know that it's his favorite." She paused,   
looking to Serena for encouragement.  
  
'He doesn't deserve you,' Serena thought   
fiercely, but merely nodded, not wanting to   
interrupt Lita.  
  
"Well, I wanted to surprise him, I th-thought   
that we could spend the day together. But... but...   
when I brought the quiche over to his apartment... I   
saw... he was..." Lita seemed unable to continue, and   
Serena squeezed her hand in support. Finally, she   
managed to choke out the terrible news.  
  
"Wh-when I got to his a-apartment, he was   
there with another woman."   
  
It was on the tip of Serena's tongue to reply   
that perhaps the woman was a friend or a relative,   
but something instinctively stopped her.   
  
Before Serena could speak, Lita blurted out   
in a rush, "And I saw them kissing!"  
  
At this point, she burst into tears again.   
Serena hugged her close and let Lita cry onto her   
shoulder. "Oh, Lita! I'm so sorry!"  
  
It was several minutes before Lita could   
speak again. When the crying had subsided somewhat,   
Lita continued her narrative without looking up from   
Serena's shoulder.   
  
"She was beautiful. They were all dressed up.   
She was wearing a beautiful dress. He held her   
hand, and they turned to leave. He saw me standing   
in the hallway, dressed in my grubby cooking   
clothes, holding that stupid quiche. I couldn't   
speak. And they just walked right by me. He didn't   
even say anything. I felt so stupid! I could hear   
them laughing together down the hallway."  
  
"I don't know what happened," Lita wailed   
between sniffles. "One day we were so happy, going   
out to dinners and parties, and the next day he's   
seeing someone else! What did I do wrong?"  
  
Serena thought she knew what happened, 'David   
is a jerk - that's what happened. For all we know,   
he was two-timing you all along!' But what she   
said was, "Honey, you didn't do anything wrong.   
I'm sure it had nothing to do with you. He's just   
a jerk!"  
  
"But... but... I think I love him! What am I   
gonna do now?"  
  
Serena cringed at these words. Did Lita even   
know what love was? How could she love someone who   
treated her so badly? In Serena's opinion, Lita   
wasn't really in love with David. She was in love   
with love.   
  
Serena knew that Lita had led a lonely,   
loveless life, having lost her parents at an early   
age. Often hiding her hurt at rejection by   
retreating into herself, Lita had adopted a tomboy   
persona and had taken up martial arts as an outlet   
for her anger and fear.   
  
As a teenager, Lita had acted out in violence;   
her aggression became a defense mechanism. She had   
been frequently suspended from schools for hurting   
other students, thus making her unpopular among the   
social workers. What no one had understood or   
bothered to discover was that Lita had been   
protecting younger children from bullies, but no one   
had ever come forward in her defense. Always the   
first one to be blamed, Lita had stopped looking for   
sympathy and understanding long ago, but what Serena   
most admired about her was her courage. In spite of   
all she had suffered in her life, somehow, she still   
managed to keep opening herself up to others, like   
she had with Serena. But she wasn't just opening her   
heart to love; she was also opening herself up to   
hurt.  
  
Serena had seen Lita with her boyfriends, had   
seen the way Lita threw herself into each   
relationship. Lita was so desperate to be loved   
that she turned herself into a kind of doormat,   
allowing the men in her life to walk all over her.   
Serena suspected that this was what attracted the   
wrong kind of men to her friend. Lita became a   
magnet for exactly the kind of guy that would take   
advantage of her.  
  
...Which brought them to the current situation.   
It was completely disarming the way Lita wouldn't   
meet Serena's eyes. It tore her apart to see her   
friend in such a low state, as if Lita had anything   
to be ashamed of. Serena would have liked to make   
David pay for what he had done to her friend, making   
her feel unlovely and unloved. But what she did do   
was make soothing noises to the weeping Lita while   
gently rubbing up and down Lita's back. When the   
tears had abated a little, Serena forced Lita to   
look into her eyes as she spoke with conviction.  
  
"David obviously doesn't deserve you. Don't   
throw yourself away on someone who can't even   
respect you as a person. You're strong, successful,   
and absolutely beautiful. One day, you're gonna   
find someone who loves you just as much as you love   
him, and you'll look back on this day with relief   
and happiness. Happiness because today you were set   
free."  
  
Lita's eyes widened at Serena's words, and by   
the end of the speech the tears had returned. But   
this time, they were tears of gratitude.  
  
Serena let her friend cry herself out. Then,   
gently wiping away the tearstains, Serena put on a   
teasing grin knowing that the worst was over.  
  
"Now, how about some chocolate ice cream?"  
  
Serena sighed at the memory as she put the   
marinating chicken in the fridge. She had been   
shocked at the transformation that had occurred to   
make Lita so emotional. Lita was such a strong   
person that she never would have suspected such   
insecurity. She could only hope that it wouldn't   
happen again, but given the type of guy Charles was,   
it seemed only a matter of time.  
  
'Please, not tonight.' Serena sent up a   
silent prayer.  
  
While she waited for the marinade, Serena   
cleaned up the mess she had made in the kitchen and   
went to straighten up the rest of the apartment.  
  
Several hours later, as she went to answer the   
doorbell, she steeled herself against the possible   
emotional storm. When she opened the door to a   
cheerfully smiling Lita, she sighed inwardly in   
relief.  
  
"Hey, girl! Something sure smells good in   
here!"  
  
"Come on in. Dinner's just about ready. How   
was your weekend?"  
  
"It was so busy. I didn't get out of the   
restaurant until after midnight yesterday. The   
Tulip Festival always brings in a ton of customers.   
I'm so exhausted that I can't wait to sit back and   
let someone else do the cooking for a change."  
  
Lita made her way to the familiar kitchen, but   
in spite of her words, she couldn't resist the habit   
of taking a peek into the oven and lifting the lid   
of a pot to sniff delicately underneath.  
  
Serena noticed and hid a grin. "Once a chef,   
always a chef."  
  
"Everything looks great, Serena. Soon you   
won't even need me to teach you anymore."  
  
"Well, I did learn from the best."  
  
"How many times do I have to tell you, girl?   
Flattery will get you everywhere!"  
  
They laughed together as they set the table.   
In a matter of minutes, there was a beautiful spread   
prepared. When they were both seated, Serena poured   
the white wine and raised her glass in a toast.  
  
"To the best cook and teacher this side of   
the border!"  
  
"To the best apprentice, who will one day   
surpass her teacher!"  
  
The two women touched glasses and dove into   
the food with gusto.  
  
"Mmmm. Serena, it's delicious! You have an   
instinct for flavor."  
  
"Why, thank you Lita. Speaking of flavor,   
how are things going with Charles?"  
  
"Oh, he's amazing. We're really hitting it   
off. To be honest, I already think I'm falling in   
love with him!"  
  
Serena didn't react much to this remark as   
Lita said this about every date she had. In fact,   
it was only a matter of time before Lita compared   
this guy with -   
  
"Actually," Lita broke into Serena's thoughts,   
"Charles looks JUST like my old boyfriend."  
  
Serena sighed. 'I should have seen it coming.   
At this rate, Charles will be history by next   
Friday. Oh Lita, when will you learn?' She bit   
back a scathing remark and opted for a more   
diplomatic silence instead.  
  
Lita moved the conversation on to other   
topics, seemingly oblivious to Serena's reaction.   
"So what are your birthday plans, Serena? Anything   
special in mind?"  
  
"Hmmm... I dunno. What do you think?"   
  
"Uh-uh. No way. It's your birthday. We are   
gonna spend it doing what YOU want to do."  
  
"Well, what about a road trip? We could drive   
down to Toronto, do some shopping. Maybe go to   
Wonderland?" Serena had always wanted to go to the   
'wonderful' and 'wondrous' amusement park.  
  
"That's an awesome idea! When do you want to   
go? I'll have to let the manager know early so I   
can get some days off."  
  
"How about the weekend after my birthday.   
That'll give us a couple of days to hang out and   
have fun before we have to drive back."  
  
"Sounds great. Hmm. I wonder if Charles is   
free that weekend?"  
  
Serena tried to hide the feeling of sick   
disappointment that hit her stomach at hearing   
those words. She most certainly did not want to   
spend a whole weekend with Charles, especially not   
her birthday weekend. Spending three hours with   
him at the movies had nearly driven her crazy, let   
alone three days. But how to tell Lita without   
offending her? A difficult task since Charles   
could do no wrong in Lita's eyes.  
  
"Well... I was thinking..." Serena began   
tentatively. "Wouldn't it be nice if we made this   
a girls only weekend? I mean, I can't imagine   
Charles having fun watching us shop, and I haven't   
been able to spend much time with you lately   
because of the busy season at the restaurant."   
Serena mentally crossed her fingers and hoped it   
would work. After all, she hadn't exactly lied.   
The summer was always the busiest time of year for   
Lita's restaurant because of its location in the   
trendy tourist area and its beautiful patio. And   
Charles was taking up most of Lita's remaining free   
time.  
  
"Y'know, I think you're right. Charles hates   
shopping, and I do want to catch up with you. That   
is, if you can stand spending three whole days with   
just me for company."  
  
Serena laughed, giddy at having dodged the   
bullet. "It's gonna be great! Epic!"  
Further excited discussion of their plans was   
cut off by the insistent ringing of the phone.   
  
"I'll get it." Serena rose from her seat and   
picked up the nearest phone. "Hello?"  
  
A male voice she didn't recognize spoke.   
"Moon?"  
  
She froze, clutching the phone to her ear,   
hoping she had misheard. With that one word,   
Serena's peaceful world shattered, bursting like a   
soap bubble. Somewhere, somehow, in the midst of   
picking out wallpaper and learning to cook with   
Lita, Serena had forgotten about the reason why she   
was there. She had hoped that the Project had   
forgotten about her also. But buried somewhere   
deep in her heart, she knew that that would not   
happen. She was being pulled back into the world   
of darkness, pulled back when she had only just   
gotten out. She had only just begun to live.  
  
"Moon?" the deep voice on the other end of   
the line repeated.  
  
"Yes, I'm here," Serena replied a little   
shakily.  
  
"Your presence is required at the Complex at   
eight pm tonight. You're wanted in Operations."  
  
Forcing herself to be calm, Serena said   
quietly, "I'll be there."  
  
There was a click, and the dial tone sounded   
in Serena's ear.   
  
"I understand, sir," Serena continued to talk   
into the dead phone for Lita's benefit. "There   
shouldn't be a problem with that account, but I'll   
get right on it. Yes, I'll be in tonight. See you   
in an hour, sir."  
  
Serena slowly replaced the phone in its   
cradle, taking a moment to gather her thoughts   
before turning back to Lita.  
  
"Problems at work?" Lita inquired innocently.  
  
"Yeah, that was my boss. There's an   
emergency meeting tonight about an account I'm   
working on. I'm not quite sure what's going on   
yet."  
  
"Well, don't worry about it. I understand if   
you have to go in to the office now. I'll clean up   
here and let myself out when I'm done."  
  
"Thank you so much, Lita. It means a lot to   
me. I'm sorry our evening didn't work out the way   
we planned," Serena replied sadly.  
  
"Never mind about that. We can get together   
anytime. And don't worry about your work. I'm   
sure it'll turn out right in the end. You'll see!"

---  
  
Lita's words haunted Serena as she rode in a   
taxi to the complex. She reflected in depression   
that Lita had no idea just how wrong she was.   
Serena was sure that for someone, it would not turn   
out right in the end. But, it remained to be seen   
who that someone would be. She didn't hold out   
much hope for herself.  
  
The cab navigated the lonely streets of   
Ottawa, Serena's hometown. She had been a little   
surprised that night when she had left the complex   
for the first time with Seiya. To find herself in   
a city that she thought she had known so well, a   
city she had lived in all her life, had come as a   
shock because she had never had any idea that a   
place like the Complex existed within it. Glancing   
out the window now, her spirits were buoyed by the   
sights of the nation's capital as they whizzed by   
outside.  
  
The taxi pulled up to a set of office   
buildings spanning the entire block across the   
street from the Parliament buildings. Serena paid   
for the cab and got out, nodding to the guard on   
duty just inside the main doors. These buildings   
contained regular government offices that   
functioned largely during the day. Bureaucrats,   
pencil pushers, and politicians worked nine-to-five   
days in these buildings with no idea of what kind   
of operations were conducted in the basement and   
sub-basement levels deep underground.  
  
Serena pressed the button for the elevator,   
and when she got in, she slipped in the double-  
sided access card Seiya had given her two months   
ago. This allowed her to open a hidden panel that   
contained a retinal scanner. Positioning herself   
on the chin-rest, she opened her eyes wide as a   
beam of light passed horizontally then vertically,   
scanning her left eye.   
  
"Identity confirmed."  
  
Serena stepped back and closed the panel as   
the elevator began its descent. After a long drop   
the lift finally stopped, and the rear doors opened,   
allowing her into a small bare room. The elevator   
doors slid closed behind her and sealed her into   
this square room, while cameras in all four corners   
of the ceiling tracked her movement. She walked   
calmly through the cube, knowing that if she didn't   
pass the second stage of identification, the room   
would quickly fill with sleeping gas. Standing in   
front of the only exit, Serena enunciated her next   
words clearly.  
  
"Agent Moon. Security code: nineteen-oh-  
three-fifty-one-Foxtrot-Zulu-Tango." There was a   
three second pause as the computers verified her   
voiceprint and code during which Serena's heart   
accelerated slightly. Thoughts raced lightning   
fast through her head. What if they had changed   
the access codes? What if the Project had decided   
to eliminate her? She knew that this room was   
something of a death trap for anyone without the   
proper clearance.   
  
She allowed herself a small sigh of relief   
when the computer beeped its approval and the door   
slid open. On the other side, Serena nodded to the   
well-armed security personnel ensconced in front of   
several banks of view-screens monitoring the room   
she had just left. Passing quickly through the   
maze of the complex, she reached an internal   
elevator and directed it to the Intel level.  
  
Serena made her way to the operations center.   
Literally the center of the complex, it was also   
the room from which all of Project Eleven's   
activities were coordinated. It was not her first   
time there, but she never lost her sense of awe   
over the vast and constantly bustling room. Always   
full of people at any hour of the day, the room   
seemed even bigger than it actually was.   
It was designed as a perfect circle with   
ceilings raised two stories high. The walls of the   
room were divided into two halves. Around the   
bottom half, banks of monumentally sized curved   
plasma screens formed a 360° panorama. Many   
individual consoles and workstations were set up in   
the middle of the room with computers, telephones,   
faxes, and all of the latest in communications   
technology. The operations center was in many ways   
a cross between a signals center and a situation   
room.  
  
Around the upper half of the walls, above the   
plasma displays, floor-to-ceiling glass windows   
overlooked the operations center. These formed a   
series of offices for the very highest-ranking of   
Project members, in addition to providing   
boardrooms and briefing rooms for important   
meetings. It was to one of these rooms that Serena   
was now directed.  
  
Pausing briefly outside the door, Serena took   
a deep breath to ready herself before pushing it   
open. She was the last one to arrive, and all eyes   
in the room fixed upon her as she entered. She   
glanced up and down the boardroom table at its   
occupants, some of whom she recognized and some of   
whom she didn't.   
  
At the head of the table sat a short woman   
with wavy, shoulder-length black hair. She was   
dressed in a suit, the clean precision of which   
exuded power and control. Serena knew instantly   
that this was a person who was used to giving   
orders and having them followed.  
  
Immediately to the right of the head of the   
table was Seiya. Serena let her eyes slide past   
him nonchalantly, even as she noticed the lack of   
expression on his handsome face. She couldn't,   
however, completely smother the flush on her cheeks   
as she recalled her panicked reaction to his almost-  
twin from the bookshop. It had been several weeks   
since that incident, but she still felt humiliated   
by her mishap.   
  
'You're not afraid. You're not afraid.' She   
mentally repeated her mantra. Marshalling her will   
power, she shoved the memory aside. Her spine   
stiff and shoulders square, Serena continued her   
perusal of the conference room occupants.   
  
On the left of the woman in charge sat a man   
of average build in one of the ubiquitous black   
suits that most project members seemed to don. A   
flamboyant red shirt with wide lapels gave his   
appearance a unique flair that was rare among the   
too-serious Project members. His solemn and severe   
mien was tempered by a playful twinkle in his blue   
eyes. What was most surprising about this man was   
his hair. Despite his otherwise relatively   
youthful appearance, his hair was completely a   
snowy white. This gave him a look of maturity and   
experience that demanded respect. A man full of   
contradictions.  
  
Next to the white-haired man was Amy. As   
prim and proper as usual, still wearing her   
pristine white lab-coat over a conservative skirt   
and jacket combo, Amy looked like her usual   
competent self.  
  
On Amy's other side was a woman Serena had   
seen many times before but had never actually met.   
She was slender and tall; her long tresses of   
luxuriant black hair shone and slid over her   
shoulders like masses of raw silk. The deep ebony   
color of her hair only accentuated the paleness of   
her creamy skin and the natural crimson stain of   
her lips. Her exotic features were accented by the   
unique clothing she wore. Obviously of an eastern   
design, the clothes suited her so perfectly that   
they appeared to have been designed specifically   
with her in mind. Her beauty and unconventionality   
would make her stand out in any crowd, but somehow   
she didn't seem out of place in this one.   
  
Across the table from this exotic woman was   
Amara, wearing her traditional tracksuit. Serena   
had never seen the athletic woman dressed in   
anything other than casual clothing, and today was   
no exception. The only person in the room not   
wearing formal business-wear, Amara's policy of   
dressing up for no one made her different from the   
others. When their eyes met, Amara flashed Serena   
a brief welcoming smile.  
  
"Serena, please, have a seat," said the woman   
at the head of the table.  
  
Serena sat down in the last remaining seat   
that had obviously been reserved for her.   
Subconsciously, as she sat down between Seiya and   
Amara, Serena edged her chair closer to Amara's.   
Once she had settled herself, the woman at the head   
of the table called the meeting to order.  
  
"Agent Moon, let me introduce you to everyone.   
My name is Luna." She gestured crisply to her left   
to the snowy-haired man, "And this is Artemis. We   
are in charge of Operations and Intel respectively.   
You already know Seiya, Agent Star, team leader and   
recruiting officer; Amy, Agent Mercury, professor   
of languages, technology specialist, and a section-  
leader for Intel; and Amara, Agent Uranus, martial   
arts expert and physical trainer. Finally, let me   
introduce Raye, Agent Mars, psych officer and   
demolitions."  
  
Raye nodded politely at Serena in   
acknowledgement of the introduction. Luna then   
continued with the meeting.  
  
"This is the team of people you will be   
working directly with. We'd like to give you a   
chance to get to know the people in your group, but   
more importantly, Serena, you've been called here   
tonight so that we can brief you on your first   
mission. Amy, if you please..." Luna requested.  
  
"Thank you, Luna." Amy picked up a remote   
control and pressed a button, turning on the large   
plasma screen affixed to the wall at the other end   
of the table. Everyone swiveled his or her chair   
to look at the screen. It showed video images of   
an Asian man of with shaggy brown hair and an   
average build leaving a restaurant. He was   
accompanied by two hulking brutes who were   
unusually large in stature for Asians. These   
Serena assumed were his bodyguards. One of them   
held open the back door to a waiting car.  
  
"His name is Alan Cheng. He's a banker who   
uses his front offices to conceal the operations of   
his back office: money laundering for the Triad   
elements in Canada and the Western United States.   
He works out of Vancouver and owns a medium sized   
shipping firm, which we believe is sometimes used to   
smuggle contraband into the country. He owns   
several warehouses near the harbor, as well as a   
variety of small businesses in Chinatown. His main   
office is located in the heart of the downtown area.   
He is currently living on a large estate in West   
Vancouver.   
  
"However, something has happened recently to   
change his normal patterns. We think that   
something big has changed within his organization,   
and we want to know what it is. This could   
potentially be very important if it links back to   
his Triad connections." Amy stopped the video on a   
profiled zoom shot of the brown-haired man.   
  
Luna now took control of the briefing.   
"Thank you, Amy. Serena, we want you to   
insinuate yourself into his organization. Get   
close to him. How you do so is, of course, at your   
own discretion, but our psych profile on him   
suggests that an aggressive approach is more   
likely to succeed. Our sources tell us that he is   
looking for a new bodyguard; this is perhaps an   
avenue you can pursue. Earn his trust, find out   
what's behind the changes, and report back to us.   
If there's a new power player involved, we want to   
know about it.  
  
"Serena, I don't need to tell you how   
important this mission is. Amara will be traveling   
with you to Vancouver to help you infiltrate his   
compound. She will be running backup for you in   
case anything happens. Needless to say, you won't   
be able to communicate often with Project members   
once you are inside his organization, so we'll   
equip you with some special devices. Amy?"   
  
Amy opened a briefcase and extracted what   
looked like two digital watches. She handed one   
each to Amara and Serena before explaining what   
they were for. "These are our newest communication   
devices. It's something we've been working on   
developing for some time now. Designed to allow   
various team members to speak to one another   
secretly, it won't be detectable by any of the   
usual means because it doesn't travel by radio-  
wave. Also, the transmissions will be encrypted,  
should anyone be advanced enough to detect them.   
  
"You will find that the watch face flips open   
to reveal the small video screen. The watch   
automatically transmits to every other device   
within the same call-group. Once we outfit   
everyone in this team with communicators of the   
same call-group, it will mean that unless you   
specify a receiver, your message will go out to all   
of your teammates at once. Keep in mind, however,   
that these devices have a limited broadcast range.   
They will work anywhere within, say, the size of a   
large city, but not much beyond that."  
  
When Amy had finished her explanations, Luna   
resumed her briefing, speaking directly to Serena.   
"Your flight leaves tomorrow morning at seven am.   
Do you have any questions?"  
  
Serena shook her head.  
  
"Good. Remember that Amara will be there in   
a support capacity only." Here, Luna pinned her   
with a disconcertingly piercing gaze, "The Project   
is depending on you to successfully carry out this   
mission, Serena."   
  
Luna broke her stare, and Serena felt an   
immense relief as if an oppressive weight had been   
lifted. "That's all for now. Raye, please help   
Amara and Serena get outfitted for the mission."  
  
As this was clearly a dismissal, Serena,   
Amara, and Raye stood up and left the room. Once   
the door was shut behind them, Luna turned to Seiya   
and Amy and asked, "Is she ready for this?"  
  
Seiya responded immediately, "Yes, she's   
ready."  
  
Artemis spoke for the first time since the   
meeting had started. "Are you sure about that?   
Need I remind you of how much is riding on this   
mission? This is a little heavy for a virgin   
operative."  
  
"I wouldn't have graduated her if I didn't   
think she was ready," replied Seiya, bristling a   
little at the implied criticism. "Serena is   
perfectly capable of completing this mission.   
She's the best operative we've ever trained. Not   
only that, but she's the only one capable of   
pulling this assignment off. You know that,   
Artemis," he finished with a hint of reproach in   
his voice.  
  
"I must agree with Seiya's assessment of   
Serena. Having worked closely with her, I have   
observed her ability to think quickly and make   
important decisions under stressful circumstances.   
I believe that Serena is fully capable of bringing   
the mission to a successful conclusion," Amy added.  
  
"I hope you both are right. Too much is   
riding on this for it to be bungled by some green   
agent," responded Artemis.  
  
"And more heads than one will go rolling if   
this doesn't work out," finished Luna.  
  
The meeting was concluded, and each left to   
attend to their own affairs. Seiya left the   
meeting feeling pressured by a sense of foreboding,   
knowing that if Serena failed, his own neck might   
just be on the line. Despite his worry over her   
ability to cope with the tough assignment, Seiya   
felt confident in her ability to carry it through.   
'I know she can do it. The question is,'   
he wondered, 'Will her conscience allow her to?'   
He could only hope that it would. If not, he would   
undoubtedly get the order to cancel Serena. And   
that was something he could not do.

---  
  
Serena and Amara followed Raye to the   
training level. She led them to a room not far   
from the indoor track. From its appearance, this   
was obviously the Quartermaster's supply room.   
Serena glanced around at the walls where guns of   
every imaginable variety were stored and displayed.   
From sniper rifles to dart-guns, there were rows   
upon rows of handguns and assault rifles - a "fully   
loaded" armory. Towards the back of the room, the   
more arcane weapons were stored, like crossbows,   
ninja throwing stars, and all manner of knives,   
daggers, and swords.  
  
"So, what do you two prefer using?" asked   
Raye.  
  
Amara thought for a minute before responding,   
"Ideally, this mission should be kept very low   
profile, so we don't want to draw too much   
attention to ourselves. Subtlety is the key.   
We'll need at least two suppressed submachine guns.   
As for handguns, I prefer the Smith and Wesson 1076   
stainless steel." She had always liked this bulkier   
gun. "Oh, and ammunition for everything."   
  
Raye placed two standard Project issue   
Heckler & Koch MP5s on the counter and added the   
requested handgun. "What about you, Serena?"  
  
"I guess...," she hesitated a little, "a   
Beretta 92FS."  
  
Raye placed one on the counter; its slick   
silver finish gleamed coldly. "Well, that's about   
it for weapons. Remember to pack them in these   
special cases when you're traveling. These will   
prevent airport security from detecting your   
weapons. I'll throw in the standard field pack -   
you know, thigh and shoulder holsters, switchblade,   
handsfree com-radios, nightvision goggles..."  
  
As Raye continued to list off the contents of   
their field issue, Serena felt trepidation set in   
about embarking on her first official mission.   
After what had happened at the restaurant with Seiya,   
she wasn't sure if she could go through all that   
again. She tried to steel her nerve by reminding   
herself that she wouldn't necessarily have to kill   
anyone on this mission. She needed only to gather   
information. Suddenly, Serena remembered the way   
the arms dealer had slumped over the table, his   
eyes staring lifelessly at her. She shuddered at   
the mental image.   
  
Serena made a silent vow, one that would   
affect the rest of her life. She promised herself   
never to take a life unless it was absolutely   
necessary.  
  
Raye must have sensed Serena's apprehension   
because she stopped talking and looked straight at   
Serena. "Amara, can you go down to the lab and   
grab the transmitter devises Serena will need?"  
  
"Sure thing."   
  
Once Amara was gone, Raye favored Serena with   
a long, knowing look as if Raye was reading her   
mind. While Luna's gaze had made Serena feel as if   
her faults were being picked apart, Raye's did the   
opposite. Her stare, though acute, seemed   
particularly sensitive, and it made Serena feel   
stronger and more confident.   
  
"Don't worry, Serena. You can do this   
mission. I believe in you." Raye spoke in a low   
voice, but the fervent undertone conveyed itself to   
Serena.  
  
Serena was pretty surprised by Raye's vote of   
confidence. After all, they had only just met one   
another. How could Raye understand exactly what   
she was feeling?   
  
Her confusion must have shown on her face   
because Raye shrugged and said, "I just get these   
feelings about people. I'm usually right. There's   
a reason why I'm a psych officer."  
  
At that moment, Raye looked more exotic and   
mysterious than ever. There seemed to be a deep   
spirituality about her that Serena found comforting   
rather than frightening. Raye was so deeply   
centered that she was like a giant tree that had   
weathered hundreds of years of storms, still firmly   
grounded and offering shelter beneath her branches.  
  
"I am pretty worried," Serena confessed.   
"It's my first mission, and everyone is depending   
on me. I just don't know if I'll be able to kill   
anyone. If it comes down to it, I'm afraid I just   
might freeze."  
  
"I understand, Serena. I went through the   
same thing myself during my first mission. It's   
normal to feel that way. Just remember that we're   
fighting on the side of good. Fighting so that the   
regular people don't have to. Fighting to protect   
them and their families. Always keep that in mind.   
This is what we've trained so hard for - trust in   
that training. Deep down, I think you're a good   
person, and I believe that you will do the right   
thing in the end - whatever that may be."  
  
Serena had never thought about things in that   
light before. She felt a little better and   
reminded herself of the vow she had just made. It   
gave her confidence to know that someone believed   
in her that strongly. "Thank you, Raye."  
  
"You're welcome, Serena."

---  
  
When Serena got home that night, the first   
thing she did was phone Lita.   
  
"Mmm...yell-o?" a groggy voice answered on the   
other end.  
  
"Oh, Lita, I'm sorry! Did I wake you up? I   
didn't realize what time it was." Serena glanced   
at her watch and saw that it was past midnight.  
  
"Serena...? Oh, thash okay," responded Lita,   
slurring her words slightly. "How did your meeting   
go? Emergency taken care of?" Lita gradually   
began to sound more awake.  
  
"Actually, no," Serena lied. "One of our   
major accounts suddenly decided to back out, and   
now I have to fly to Vancouver tomorrow morning to   
fix things."  
  
"Is there anything I can do? Do you need a   
ride to the airport?"  
  
Serena silently blessed Lita for her   
thoughtfulness. "No, but thanks. I wouldn't want   
to drag you out of bed that early in the morning.   
The office is sending a taxi for me anyways. I was   
wondering if you could water my plants while I'm   
gone. It may be for a week or two. I'm not sure   
how long it will take to patch things up with the   
other company."  
  
"Sure, Serena. 'S no problem."  
  
"Lita, you're an angel! Thank you so much!   
I'll leave the key to the apartment hidden under   
the Welcome mat. You might as well keep it for me.   
In case I'm ever locked out of my apartment, it'll   
be a good idea if you have a copy of my key."  
  
"Okay, sounds fine. Leave me a message if you   
think of anything you've forgotten or if you need   
me to pick you up from the airport."  
  
"You really are an angel. Thanks again. I'm   
sorry to have woken you up."  
  
"Don't worry about it. Just get your work   
stuff straightened out quickly so you can hurry   
home. Have a good trip!"  
  
"Bye."  
  
"Bye, Serena."

---  
  
Serena was sitting in the window seat,   
glancing down at the voluminous gray clouds   
underneath the small plane. Amara was in the aisle   
seat next to her and had been asleep even before   
they had taken off. Serena almost wished she too   
could sleep because she had gotten very little the   
night before, staying up late to pack and to plan   
out her strategy for infiltrating Cheng's   
organization. Unfortunately, she was just too   
keyed up to rest.   
  
In addition to her anxiety about the upcoming   
mission, this was Serena's first time on an   
airplane, and she was pretty excited about it. In   
spite of her enthusiasm and amazement that this   
mechanical contraption was soaring above layers of   
clouds, she found that the plane had a too-sterile   
smell that reminded her unpleasantly of hospitals.   
The un-definable smell gave her a small headache,   
which, combined with the food that was just as bad   
as it was reputed to be, left her feeling somewhat   
queasy.  
  
Serena continued to stare out the small   
window, heedless of the bright sunshine that poured   
into the cabin, and ignored the movie playing on a   
screen at the front of the plane. She reflected   
that Lita had never so much as questioned her cover   
story or her "business trip." She felt extremely   
guilty about lying to her friend, but wondered if   
it was strange that Lita had asked so few questions.   
She supposed that it must be pretty common to find   
someone working for a high-tech company in Ottawa.   
After all, it was widely known as the "Silicon   
Valley of the North." Spur of the moment business   
trips were nothing unusual either. 'I'm probably   
overreacting. Working for the Project has made me   
paranoid. I guess my cover story is just well   
thought-out.'

---  
  
Once the plane landed, Amara took charge and   
rented a car. They drove directly to a downtown   
hotel where they checked in and settled into their   
room. Then, Amara suggested that they take the   
opportunity to reconnoiter their target's house and   
offices and simultaneously do a little sightseeing.   
Serena eagerly agreed to this idea because she had   
never been to Vancouver before.  
  
Traveling on foot, they decided to swing   
through Gastown on their way to Cheng's Chinatown   
businesses. The ground was wet from a nighttime   
shower, and Serena found it odd that moss seemed to   
be growing all over the sidewalks. They stopped to   
admire the charming steam clock as it whistled the   
hour into the pale morning gloom. The inexorably   
rising sun cast a glowing pink hue on the sky and   
reflected off the shining clock faces, dissipating   
the pre-dawn fog. The quaint Gastown boutiques   
were not yet open as it was still very early, but   
Serena happily peered at the window displays.  
  
The two women then proceeded to Chinatown,   
passing restaurants of astonishing variety, and   
gradually making their way to the seedier areas in   
which one of Cheng's businesses was located.   
People here were already well into their daily   
routines, in spite of the fact that the sun had   
barely risen. Vendors were laying out their wares,   
and the two operatives had their olfactory senses   
assaulted by the blended smells of oriental spices,   
exotic cooking, and rotting fruit.   
  
Finally, Amara and Serena found the small   
place that Cheng owned. The tiny building was   
crammed between two larger buildings and looked to   
have been built out of an alleyway. It appeared   
rather decrepit and decadent. Unlike the other   
active places in the area, Cheng's building was   
shut tight. There were no signs of life or   
movements inside the building, and little could be   
observed from the outside since the windows had   
been boarded shut.  
  
Since nothing more was to be learned from the   
place, Amara suggested that they swing by Cheng's   
main offices before heading back to their hotel for   
a shower and a meal. Feeling tired from their   
morning walkabout, Serena agreed. Upon reaching   
the hotel, they found that they were just in time   
for a continental breakfast in the modest dining   
room.  
  
Later that afternoon, the operatives had   
driven their rental car to Cheng's West Vancouver   
estate. Parking their car a block away, Serena and   
Amara walked to the crest of a nearby hill to   
survey the estate. The sprawling house was set far   
back from the road, and there was a walled fence   
that ran the perimeter of the land. Steel gates   
closed off the driveway that led up to the house   
and to a garage housing three or four cars.  
  
"Intel reports that they have guys guarding   
the perimeter, but only at night. That's probably   
because it would look weird in this neighborhood if   
you had obvious sentries posted twenty-four hours a   
day. This is still a residential area after all,"   
Amara commented.  
  
Serena peered through her binoculars at the   
three-story building constructed on the slope of   
the mountain. "It looks as if that's the best time   
to hit them then. Remember, we want to impress   
this guy enough for him to hire me."  
  
"Are you sure, bunny? It seems like this   
will be a pretty tough entry. This guy obviously   
values his privacy. Just look at those electronic   
gates, the high walls, and the tree-covered   
perimeter. You won't even be able to see the house   
from the street. And remember that once you're   
inside, I won't be able to contact you very often.   
It would be too dangerous."  
  
"I'm sure," Serena replied. "If I just waltz   
in during business hours, he probably won't even   
see me. This way, he'll get a good idea about my   
abilities. It's the only way we'll get him to   
trust me."  
  
"Well, it's your operation. But remember,   
I'm only here for backup."  
  
"Don't worry. I can handle this."   
  
'I hope,' she added silently.

---  
  
'Me and my big mouth!' Serena thought to   
herself later that night as she assessed the   
situation. Clothed in a form-fitting black   
jumpsuit, she was crouched in the shadow of the ten-  
foot high wall she had scaled only minutes earlier.  
  
Gradually, Serena crept closer to the edge of   
the forested area, toward Cheng's house, slipping   
silently from behind one tree to the next. She   
paused behind the last row of trees. A vast, open,   
lawn area was between her and the house. She   
pulled off the night-vision goggles and tucked them   
into one of the many pockets in her black cargo   
pants. The resulting landscape changed from an   
eerily, glowing, neon green to its regular coloring.   
The house in front of Serena was brightly lit,   
making the use of the goggles impossible since   
everything would only show up in a uniformly   
blinding, bright green.  
  
Serena studied each guard as they performed   
their patrol around the premises. If she timed   
things correctly, she would only ever have to worry   
about one guard at a time. There were a total of   
three guards making their rounds outside, plus one   
in the gatehouse at the entrance of the drive, and   
six more inside the house who would come running   
out if she got caught or set off the alarm.   
  
Her heart started to pulse at an irregular   
beat, and she began to sweat in the brisk night air.   
Even though Amara was stationed in the bushes on   
the other side of the wall, ready to come to the   
rescue if anything should happen, Serena knew that   
she wouldn't get a second chance to succeed -   
everything counted on her not getting caught. She   
had to prove herself to Cheng if she wanted him to   
hire her. Not only that, but she wanted to prove   
to the Project, and even more to herself, that she   
could do this. After all, what had she been   
training for the last two years?  
  
'This is it,' she told herself. 'There's no   
going back. You can do this.'   
  
Just as one of the guards moved out of sight   
around the other side of the house and before the   
next guard came into view, Serena broke into a   
sprint towards the house. There was a young maple   
tree approximately two and a half meters away from   
the side of the house. Flowering rhododendron   
bushes surrounded the base of the tree. It was   
for these that Serena aimed in her full-out sprint.  
  
...5...4...3...2...1.   
  
When her mental count reached "one," Serena   
tucked into a roll that brought her onto the balls   
of her feet crouched behind the bushes, just as the   
next guard appeared from behind the other side of   
the house.  
  
She took a few seconds to struggle to regain   
her breath. Her heart was palpitating almost   
audibly. She had made it through the first stage   
of her plan. Now, as her breathing returned to   
normal, Serena carefully peered through the   
branches of the bushes. The leaves of the   
rhododendron were very slightly curled from the   
cool temperatures, making it easy for her to   
observe the guard closest to her without being   
seen.   
  
While she watched, the guard in front of her   
paused in his patrol to light a cigarette.   
Glancing up after taking a drag, he seemed to stare   
directly at the spot where Serena was crouched   
behind the bushes. As the guard continued to stare   
straight at her, a nervous sweat broke out anew all   
over her body. Had he seen her? Serena could only   
send up a silent prayer that her presence hadn't   
been detected.  
  
To her intense relief, the guard merely took   
another long drag at his cigarette and continued   
his patrol. She knew she only had roughly 30   
seconds to make it far enough up the tree to be   
invisible from the ground. As soon as this guard   
was out of sight, Serena grabbed the branch lowest   
to the ground and used it to pull herself up by   
walking up the tree trunk. Once she was in a   
sitting position on the first branch, she quickly   
straightened up and stood to grasp the next branch.   
Swinging up from branch to branch, Serena was well   
into the tree's leafy canopy by the time the third   
guard passed into her view.  
  
Now climbing more cautiously, she tried not   
to disturb the branches and make noise. Her dark   
clothing was doing most of the work of concealing   
her presence. Serena moved patiently, making sure   
she had a firm and steady grip before moving to the   
next branch. It wasn't until the cigarette-smoking   
guard passed once more into view that she had   
reached her goal.   
  
She stood on a branch that was level with the   
roof of the house. At this altitude, the tree   
swayed violently in the evening air currents, and   
it became increasingly difficult to maintain her   
balance despite all her martial arts training. If   
she tried to climb any higher, experience told her   
that those branches might not support her weight.  
  
Steadying herself with one of the breathing   
exercises she had been taught, Serena prepared for   
the jump.  
  
"Have you secured the gala location yet?"   
Cheng asked Dean, his chief bodyguard and head of   
security. Sitting forward in his high-backed,   
leather office chair he fixed Dean with penetrating   
glance. His office was comfortable, but Spartan.   
Its primary feature was a heavy desk, upon which   
various papers were scattered around a large   
computer.  
  
"No, sir. I plan to take our team to scout   
the area the day after tomorrow."   
  
Standing at attention on the other side of   
Cheng's desk, the low lighting in Cheng's office   
accentuated the bodyguard's hulking build. As   
chief bodyguard, Dean couldn't let himself appear   
smaller than the other guards. His pride was at   
stake.  
  
"Hm. Very well. I'll expect a report when   
you've finished. That's all for now. Make sure   
I'm not disturbed for the rest of the evening."   
Cheng negligently dismissed his bodyguard and   
returned his attention to the computer screen in   
front of him.  
  
"Yes, boss." Dean executed a sketchy bow and   
retreated to his own office on the floor below.  
  
Amara hated waiting.   
  
Waiting was quite possibly the most   
unpleasant part of her job. Here she was, crouched   
in the obscurity of several close bushes next to   
the wall that surrounded Cheng's property, unable   
to do anything about the mission except wait and   
worry - worry about what was happening, worry about   
what wasn't happening, worry about Serena...   
  
How was Serena doing? Had she made it into   
the house? Had she perhaps been caught even though   
no obvious alarms had gone off? Was there a trap   
waiting for Serena inside the house?   
  
The Project had given them blueprints of   
Cheng's house, and they had scouted out the   
surrounding areas. She and Serena had studied the   
layout tirelessly until they had it memorized.   
Amara only hoped that it was accurate. Nothing   
spoiled a mission like bad intel. There was no way   
of knowing, of course, until Serena went into the   
house, so they just had to hope for the best and   
trust that the Project had gotten the most up-to-  
date information.  
  
What was taking so long?   
  
The passage of time was a funny thing. Even   
though she had the luxury of wearing a watch, time   
never seemed to pass the way it should. It   
expanded and compressed with alarmingly little   
frame of reference. When Amara was sure that   
several hours had passed since beginning her wait,   
her watch told her that it had really only been   
several minutes.   
  
Amara had no way of knowing how Serena was   
faring. Serena was supposed to call using their   
watch-communicators once she was successfully   
inside the house. Until then, Amara could do   
nothing but wait, and wait, and wait...  
  
And so, with all the training and experience   
she had, Amara was reduced to crouching in the   
uncomfortably prickly bushes and enduring the   
persistent bites of the mosquitoes that had come to   
feast on her blood.   
  
"Damn!" she swore mentally as another bite   
began to swell up and itch like crazy.  
  
Amara hated waiting.  
  
Serena was in the tree, a meter and a half   
away from the roof of Cheng's house. She swung   
herself from a tree branch, each forward motion   
bringing her closer and closer to the rooftop. The   
bark of the tree scraped her sweat-slicked palms   
uncomfortably. She didn't figure she could hold on   
much longer, and she was about as close to the roof   
as she was going to get anyway. On the next   
forward swing, just as the arc of her body had   
reached the apex of the swaying motion, Serena let   
go.   
  
She was falling, falling...  
  
Closer and closer to the roof's edge...  
  
But Serena had misjudged the distance. She   
wasn't going to make it. In a last ditch attempt,   
Serena made a grab for a satellite antenna sticking   
outward just below the eaves and caught it. She   
hung there for a brief moment, but was quickly   
jolted as the satellite dish began to come loose   
from the wall. It just wasn't strong enough to   
support her whole weight.   
  
Serena knew she didn't have much time before   
it broke off completely and plunged her to her   
death two stories below. She was suddenly glad for   
all the upper body training she had done as she   
used it to pull herself up. Just when she had   
secured a hold on the roof, she felt the antenna   
come loose in her hand. She let it dangle loosely   
from the connecting wires, and clambered onto the   
roof.  
  
Communicating the latest business figures in   
a conference call with his superiors in Hong Kong,   
Cheng was suddenly treated to a dial tone when the   
connection suddenly went dead.   
  
"What?? What's going on here?!"   
  
He pressed the hang-up button repeatedly to   
no avail. His superiors were going to have a fit   
about the interrupted. God forbid that they would   
think he hung up on them. Regardless, they would   
demand an explanation and probably an investigation   
to make certain that this wasn't the RCMP or the   
FBI tapping into their calls. A simple   
disconnection could potentially cause him a lot of   
problems.  
  
When he could not get his superiors back on   
the line himself, Cheng was forced out of his   
office. He strode angrily down the hall, searching   
for a solution and promising punishment for those   
responsible.  
  
Three guards were lounging on couches in   
front of the mammoth television set in various   
states of relaxation. They stuffed their faces   
with junk food and argued amongst themselves loudly,   
predicting the outcome of the titanic battle that   
was about to be broadcast from Las Vegas.  
  
"Where's Tom? He's gonna miss the fight. I   
thought he wanted to see all the action."  
  
"I think he's in the washroom. Didn't he say   
that Holyfield would win in a TKO? Well, he's   
wrong about that. It's gonna be Lewis or nuthin'   
baby!"  
  
Suddenly, Tom wasn't the only one who was   
going to miss the fight.  
  
"Hey!" one of the guards exclaimed as the   
television was reduced to showing only static.  
  
"What's going on here, Marcus? We're gonna   
miss the match!"  
  
Another guard went to the side of the 65"   
flatscreen television and punched the side in a   
Neanderthalian attempt to restore the picture.  
  
"Yo, Dean!" Marcus hollered into the next   
room. "There's something wrong with the satellite."  
  
Dean's bulky form emerged from his office and   
came to stand with the others around the   
malfunctioning television. "What's the matter?" he   
grunted.  
  
"The satellite must be out," replied one of   
the guards, succeeding only at stating the obvious.  
  
"We're gonna miss the match, Dean. It's   
Lennox Lewis versus Evander Holyfield! The   
heavyweight match of the century, and our TV goes   
out! Can you believe this?!?" Marcus exclaimed   
indignantly.  
  
Dean gave the top of the television a bang   
with his fist, frowning when the picture continued   
to display only snow.  
  
"I already tried that," complained the   
Neanderthal.  
  
It was thus that Cheng found them: four   
hulking brutes standing stupidly, staring at the   
static, muttering to each other about what they   
were going to do. "What's going on here," Cheng   
frowned.  
  
"Sorry, Mr. Cheng. There's something wrong   
with the satellite," Dean reported.  
  
Cheng's eyes hardened, and the temperature of   
his voice dropped below zero as he replied, "What?!"  
  
Meanwhile, on the roof, Serena had managed to   
make her way over to the only skylight. It   
overlooked a small bathroom at an oblique angle.   
She cautiously peered in. Inside, she saw a large   
man sitting on the toilet.  
  
'Must be one of the guards,' she thought with   
amusement.  
  
Cheng's brows drew together in consternation.   
"You!" he said pointing at Dean. "Come with me.   
The rest of you, secure the perimeter."   
  
Dean followed Cheng into the next room, while   
the other guards groused about missing the fight   
and slowly made their way downstairs.  
  
Inside Dean's office, Cheng ordered him to   
check all their security measures.  
  
"Sir, it's probably nothing. No need to get   
upset about a little satellite disruption," Dean   
tried to reassure Cheng.  
  
"Idiot! Do you know what kind of trouble   
this is going to cause with Hong Kong? I was on an   
important conference call with them when the   
satellite cut out. Now make sure our security   
hasn't been compromised!"  
  
Serena had been waiting for several minutes   
to see if the guard would leave, but she was no   
longer amused. Here he was, still sitting on the   
toilet, calmly flipping through a magazine with no   
concern for someone who might want to use the   
washroom skylight to break into the house. No   
consideration. No consideration at all.  
  
Well, she couldn't wait any longer. Every   
second she stayed on the roof was a second that   
increased the risk of discovery. She would just   
have to go in and deal with the guy on the toilet.  
  
Luckily, she could angle herself on the same   
side of the skylight as the guard so that she was   
out of his line of sight. Crouching next to the   
skylight, Serena pulled a laser glasscutter from   
one of her cargo pockets. It was a good thing that   
the Project was equipped with the most advanced   
technology. A traditional glasscutter would have   
made enough noise to alert the man on the toilet.   
Serena blessed the silence of the laser as she   
worked at cutting a hole in the skylight. Sweat   
beaded on her brow while she concentrated. Soon,   
the circular piece of glass came free, and she   
pulled it up onto the roof.  
  
Serena checked one last time to see if the   
guard was paying attention before silently lowering   
herself down through the hole. Three feet from the   
floor, she let go of the window-ledge and dropped.  
  
From her low crouch, she could tell that the   
guard still hadn't noticed her presence. She stood   
up slowly and drew her Beretta. Aiming it at the   
oblivious guard, she stalked toward him. She   
stopped directly in front of him, but he still had   
yet to look up from his magazine.  
  
"Ahem," Serena cleared her throat and said   
sweetly, "Pass the toilet paper please."  
  
Tom's head finally whipped up. He looked up   
directly into the barrel of her gun, his eyes   
almost crossing as they focused on it. Serena had   
a hard time keeping herself from laughing at the   
expression on his face.   
  
Before he could regain the use of what little   
wits he had, she rapped him smartly on the head   
with the butt of her pistol. He slid to the floor   
unconscious with his pants around his ankles.  
  
Serena debated the situation before her.   
Training dictated that you should only ever leave   
an enemy behind you if he or she has been   
incapacitated. But she was reluctant to touch him   
at all - he was half-naked, and besides...   
Stupidity might be catching.   
  
Her training won out, however, and she bent   
to shove a large wad of toilet paper in his mouth   
and tie his hands behind his back with a long spool   
of dental floss, winding it around his wrists   
several times. That stuff was near unbreakable.  
  
That done, Serena flipped open the cover of   
her watch and called through the video-screen to   
Amara.   
  
"I'm in," she told her partner.  
  
Amara's relieved face appeared to   
congratulate her. "Nice work. Now all you have to   
do is convince Cheng to hire you as his bodyguard.   
I'll stick around for another fifteen minutes if   
you need me. Otherwise, I'll see you in a couple   
of days. Good luck!"  
  
The view-screen fizzled out, and Serena   
flipped the cover shut. She then pressed her ear   
against the crack of the door, trying to hear what   
was happening outside. After several seconds of   
hearing nothing but silence, she opened the door   
slightly and peered out. The coast was clear.   
Locking the bathroom closed behind her, Serena slid   
out into the hallway and made her way through the   
house.  
  
As they strode into Cheng's office, Dean   
spoke into his handheld radio, "Everybody, report   
in."  
  
"Perimeter 1. All clear."  
  
"Perimeter 2. Clear."  
  
"Perimeter 3. Nothing here."  
  
"Gatehouse. No signs of anything unusual."  
  
"See, boss?" Dean said a little petulantly.   
"I told you, it's nothing to worry about. Probably   
just a cat or something. We'll get the cable   
people to come fix it tomorrow. The guys will just   
have to miss the boxing match."  
  
Alan Cheng spoke in a low but fierce voice.   
"I don't care if they miss a stupid TV show! You   
just find out exactly what happened to knock out   
the satellite, and you find out NOW!"  
  
"Yes, bo-" the guard was in the process of   
saying, when he bit off an exclamation of surprise.  
  
The comfortable leather chair behind Cheng's   
desk suddenly swiveled around, revealing a slim   
blonde whose long hair was tied in a sleek knot at   
the crown of her head and hung down past her   
shoulders.  
  
"Am I interrupting something?" Serena asked   
softly with a gamine smile.  
  
---  
AN: Whew! It took me forever, but I finally   
finished this long, long chapter. Immeasurable  
thanks go out to my wonderful editor, Syrinx. If  
you haven't already, go check out her suspenseful   
mystery, "The Mousetrap."  
  
Thank you for leaving a review!  
  
Next chapter: Serena gets closer to Alan, but how   
close is too close?  
  
Aglaia


	7. The Bodyguard

La Femme Serena  
by Aglaia

"Between stimulus and response, there is a space.  
In that space lies our freedom and our power to  
choose our response. In those choices lie our  
growth and our happiness." Anonymous

* * *

Chapter 7: The Bodyguard

"Am I interrupting something?" Serena asked  
softly with a gamine smile.

An expression full of some unsettling emotion  
flickered momentarily on Cheng's face as his eyes  
narrowed upon the occupant of his chair.

Dean, a few seconds too slow on the uptake,  
now pulled out his gun and moved into a protective  
position in front of Cheng, completely hiding him  
from view. "Who are you? What do you want?" he  
barked at Serena.

Before she could reply, Cheng cut in with an  
obvious dismissal. "Thank you. That will do,  
Dean." Cheng stepped calmly around his bodyguard  
to gaze intently at Serena, taking in every detail  
of her appearance, from sleek ponytail to form-  
fitting black jumpsuit.

She felt the examination of his measuring eyes  
and returned stare for stare. He was taller than  
she expected, placing him at just about her height.  
His thick brown hair was cut in a fashionable shag,  
but the clothes he wore were just short of ascetic  
in their simplicity. The features of his face were  
delicate, almost to the point of being effeminate,  
making him appear very young. He didn't look much  
more than a few years older than she.

"Boss!" Dean protested.

"I no longer require your presence." Cheng's  
smooth tenor voice hid the scathing sarcasm well,  
although his thin but expressive lips twitched in  
what looked suspiciously like a smile.

"But, Boss... She could be an assassin or ...  
or something!"

Cheng spoke ironically, his eyes sharing the  
humour with Serena, "Yes, well thank you for saving  
me from certain death. I'm eternally grateful."

Serena merely observed the scene with a tiny  
grin. This was going to be easier than she thought.

"Now if you'll excuse us..." Cheng looked  
meaningfully at the door.

"Yes, sir," Dean grumbled. He left the  
office reluctantly, but not before shooting a dirty  
look at Serena.

Once the door was closed, Cheng turned  
politely to Serena. "You'll have to excuse my head  
of security. As you can see, he's rather  
protective but not the sharpest tool in the shed."

"I guess not." Serena was hard-pressed not  
to laugh out loud. Obviously, Cheng found the  
whole scene as ridiculous as she did.

He wasn't at all what she expected. Although  
there was something slightly eccentric about him  
and his obvious appreciation of the ridiculous, he  
dressed very much like an ordinary businessman.  
His finely boned facial structure reminded Serena  
of a mischievous elf with its thin, arrow-like  
eyebrows raised in an impish expression. But his  
plain, woolen suit was incongruously conservative  
in its severe cut.

Serena reminded herself that she should trust  
nothing about his appearance. Ever since the night  
of her final test, she was conscious of how badly  
she had misjudged Seiya's character. No longer so  
confident in her opinions, Serena was now more wary  
of jumping to the wrong conclusions. Taking what  
appeared on the surface about Cheng at face value  
could lead her all too easily into a trap, and she  
could very well jeopardize her entire mission if she  
read him incorrectly. Keen to stay on his good side,  
if he had one, Serena planned her next move cautiously.

Out of courtesy, she deliberately stood up  
and moved around to the other side of the massive  
desk, relinquishing the leather chair to its  
rightful owner.

Once he was comfortably ensconced in his  
chair, Cheng spoke casually, as if he often found  
strange young women breaking into his house late  
at night. "So, I take it that you're the one responsible  
for the satellite disruption."

"Ah, yes. That. Let's call it an accident. I do  
apologize for any... inconvenience it may have  
caused." Serena's voice was playful and suggestive.  
She was deliberately turning on the charm. She  
needed him to not only like her, but to like her enough  
to hire her right away without a reference.

"Not at all." Cheng was nothing if not gracious. "Now  
what can I do for you? Miss..." he trailed off, quirking  
an elegant eyebrow expectantly.

"Serena. Just Serena. I think the real question is what  
can I do for you, Mr. Cheng."

"Oh?"

"The word is that you're looking to hire a new  
bodyguard." Serena paused to glance at Cheng. At his  
nod of confirmation, she continued, "I'd like to apply  
for the position."

"You?" His amused glance seemed to encompass her  
slim figure and unlikely appearance. Compared to  
Cheng's other bodyguards, she looked like a harmless  
child.

"It's not about how much force you use, but how you  
apply it." Serena threw another coy glance at Cheng.  
"I'm new to this business, but I thought that maybe  
you'd give me a chance, given my recent demonstration..."  
She deliberately left the rest of the sentence hanging  
seductively.

Was he buying her story? Would he accept her into  
his organization? Serena was working hard to conceal  
her nervousness and focus on the role she was playing.  
Within that role, she negligently began to glance around  
the room, as if she had no stake in whether he decided to  
accept her or not. Meanwhile, Serena tried to figure out  
what Cheng was thinking, analyzing his reactions out of  
the corners of her eyes and from under her lashes.

He appeared to be seriously considering her offer. To  
weigh the decision in her favor, Serena couldn't help but  
add a little dig at his expense. "I can help you tighten up  
the security around your estate. Not all late night visitors  
are as ... pleasant as I am."

That pointed reminder seemed to decide him. The  
mischievous look in his eyes returned. "Hmm. I see  
your point. I'll tell you what, Serena. I've got an  
important function coming up in the next week, and  
I'll be too busy to deal with finding the additional  
security I need. So here's how we'll play it - you can  
stay on until the gala is over. We'll call it a trial period.  
If you do a good job, you can stay on permanently.  
If not..."

Serena smiled in satisfaction.

* * *

Dean, however, was less than satisfied when he heard  
the news. He couldn't quite believe what his boss had  
just told him. A loyal servant to the "family" for ten years,  
he had already spent three years in service to Cheng.  
He had worked hard to earn his place and current status,  
and all of a sudden this girl comes out of nowhere and...

"You're going to let this stranger into the house!"

"No," Cheng replied frostily. "You're the one who  
let her in here when your security arrangements failed.  
What the HELL do I pay you for?"

Dean flushed with shame and anger, but he knew  
better than to speak the sullen retort that hovered on  
his lips. Instead, he looked away in frustration. The  
boss just didn't understand.

After a moment of thick silence, Cheng resumed  
speaking. "I'm not stupid. We have no idea who this  
girl is or where she came from. If we can figure out  
what she wants, we can use that to our advantage."

"But we can't just let her have free reign inside the  
house!" Dean continued to protest.

"The only really important, incriminating information is  
safely stored in my office computer. She'd have to be  
a first rate hacker to get past the systems I've got in  
place, and shedoesn't strike me as the type."

Dean's grudging reply was, "Do you think she's a spy?"

Cheng seemed to consider this. "I'm not sure. There's  
something... something that isn't quite right about her.  
The way she acted just didn't fit with the vibe I was  
getting from her. So assume nothing. That way, we  
have nothing to lose."

Finally, Dean could hold back no longer. "But what  
if she ..."

Cheng cut him off abruptly. "It will be your job to see  
that she doesn't. And while you're at it, do some  
checkingup on her background. See what you can find  
out. There's definitely a deeper game going on here.  
She's hiding something, and I want to know what."

* * *

After a brief private conference with his head  
bodyguard of which Serena could hear nothing, Cheng  
told Dean to show her to a guest room the size of a  
closetin the basement. The room was just large enough  
for a cot and a dresser. From Dean's obvious expression  
of antagonism when he all but locked her in her  
windowless room, it was clear that he wasn't going to  
make things easy for her.

As she prepared herself for bed, Serena was very  
conscious of the precarious position she was in. Now  
that she had accomplished the first part of her task, she  
was coming to realize just how much further she still had  
to go. She had succeeded in infiltrating Cheng's house,  
and he had agreed to let her stay, at least temporarily.  
But the more difficult part of her mission was yet to  
come: getting Cheng to confide in her. Given the  
lukewarm reception of her poor attempt at seduction,  
she didn't know what she would try next. It was clear  
that he didn't trust her, and she wasn't quite sure how to  
change that.

Then there was Dean's reaction. She couldn't afford  
to make more enemies than she had to. There was no  
telling how much interference the disgruntled head of  
security could cause, possibly even jeopardizing her  
cover.

Regardless of whose side Dean was on, there would  
be no safety for her as long as she was within Cheng's  
compound, knowing that at any time someone could  
figure out what she was doing. She would need to be  
on her guard at all times. The tiniest slip of the tongue  
could expose her.

It was a frightening prospect. No matter what the  
Project thought, she wasn't cut out for this. But what  
choice did she have? She had to find some way of  
getting the information the Project wanted.The rest of  
the night passed slowly. Time crawled past while she  
tried to deal with the situation. Sleep was impossible,  
as the danger she still felt became more and more  
pressing in her mind. Her ears were attuned to the  
slightest sound in the unfamiliar environment, straining  
to hear anything that might indicate an attack on her  
small, indefensible room, and her eyes kept darting to  
the one exit as the walls closed in on the tiny space.  
She forced herself to practice her breathing exercises,  
but it continued to be a struggle just to breathe steadily.  
It was that familiar feeling of being trapped again, but  
this time it was more intense than it had ever been  
before. Not even during her graduation test had she  
been this frantic.

Although she was on the verge of a breakdown,  
Serena forced herself to wait out the night. There was  
nothing she could do to change the situation now, and  
any movement on her part might actually make Cheng  
and the others more suspicious of her. Even though she  
knew all these things with a certainty, she couldn't help  
but think the worst.

Her mind dwelled on every possibility, each more  
frightening than the next. What if Cheng had changed  
his mind about her? What if they had found her out  
already? What if they were merely stringing her along  
until they could kill her? It was a long battle with her  
insecurities that ended only with the dawn.

By the time the sun had mercifully risen, Serena's  
nerves were shot to pieces. Her watch told her that  
it was now six in the morning. Unable to stay in the  
miniscule room a moment longer, she dressed  
quickly and tiptoed to the door. Her hand trembled  
on the doorknob, and she tried to tell herself how  
foolish she was being. If Cheng really suspected her,  
he could easily have had his guards burst into the  
room and drag her out whether she was willing or  
not. There was no reason at all for him to wait until  
morning and ambush her coming out of her room.  
Logic told her this, but it was the prospect of  
remaining inside the room indefinitely that finally  
forced Serena to act, ambush or no ambush.  
Bracing herself for an attack, she pulled open the  
door.

Nothing.

The house was quiet. There was no one in sight.

She breathed a long sigh of relief. Already, she  
felt much better for having left that prison of a  
room.

Now that she was out in the open, Serena  
instinctively decided against beginning her  
investigations right away. If Cheng's people  
caught her doing anything even remotely  
suspicious, her whole mission would be a bust.  
She was on probation with Cheng, so it was  
probably best not to push her luck, no matter  
how much she wanted to get this mission over  
with quickly.

Instead, she moved quietly down the still-dark  
basement corridor towards an open door she had  
passed on her way in, the night before. Much of her  
remaining anxiety left her as she beheld Cheng's  
personal gym. Elaborate for a private home, there  
were free weights, variable resistance machines, a  
treadmill, and even an elliptical machine. All the  
equipment was well used, but in good condition.

For the first time since entering Cheng's compound,  
Serena relaxed. This was something she knew how to  
handle. There was no need for pretense or lies here,  
just work and sweat. It would be a good outlet for the  
stress and tension of the long night and would prepare  
her for the challenges of the day. She immediately threw  
herself into her exercise routine, blocking out everything  
else.

She was so focused, in fact, that it wasn't until a  
derogatory voice abruptly broke into her  
concentration an hour later that she finally became  
aware of her surroundings.

"Well, well. If it isn't G. I. Jane..."

Serena sat up from the bench where she had been  
working out. Dean was standing in front of her with  
his arms crossed in an aggressive stance. Six off-  
duty guards now followed him into the room,  
tension written in every line of their bodies. Dean  
had obviously spread the news about her, and they  
didn't look pleased about it.

As they descended upon her like disgruntled bears  
prematurely awoken from hibernation, Serena found  
that the nervous energy she had worked off was  
rushing back. Her fear of being trapped was also  
kicking in, making her first reaction panic, but she  
forced herself to look at the situation tactically.  
Cheng's bodyguards, though strong, did not seem  
very smart, especially if their security arrangements  
were any indication.

As she tried to mentally steady herself, she  
glanced around her, taking in the situation and  
the familiar gym environment. Spotting a  
cleared area laid down with exercise mats, the  
memory of Amara's lessons suddenly came to  
mind. Serena could almost hear her instructor's  
calm and gravelly voice speaking in her head...  
"Okay, Serena. You've mastered the one-on-  
one techniques, but someday you may find  
yourself up against a group of attackers all at  
once. Now this can work to your advantage  
because your opponents will be getting in each  
other's way. Your main strategy will be to  
compound that make things difficult for them.  
Your best ally in a fight of this kind will be  
getting enough space to work with, but  
remember that this also gives your opponents  
more room to maneuver ..."

All the long hours she had put into her lessons  
returned to her, bringing with them a measure of  
calm. She could handle this. Amara had taught  
her well.

Serena carefully set down the barbells and stood  
up. Maintaining a cautiously relaxed posture, she  
moved to stand in the center of a large open space  
around the exercise mats. The lumbering bears  
moved to surround her in a loose circle around  
the empty sparring area, their manner threatening.

"Why don'tcha stop playing around and head on  
back to the kitchen where you belong. Let the real  
men do the job of guarding the boss," Dean  
smirked. The other guards chuckled nastily at this  
comment and gave her some ugly leers.

"Yeah, sweet-cheeks," said Tom, cracking his  
knuckles ominously. Serena recalled with a mental  
smirk the compromising position in which she had  
left him the previous night. His face was now  
flushed with rage, making him look almost  
apoplectic. She guessed that he had suffered more  
than a bit of jeering from hisfriends since being  
discovered tied up and out cold onthe bathroom  
floor with his pants around his ankles. So now he  
was probably trying to regain the respect of his  
comrades.

Clearly, he was still upset about the incident and  
was looking for a bit of revenge. "You tryin' to  
make us look bad in front of the boss? You think  
you can just waltz your pretty little behind in here  
and start runnin' things?"

"Me?" Serena replied sweetly, baring her teeth in a  
taunting grin. She easily dismissed his bravado. "Try  
to make you look bad? Please. You don't need me  
for that. You guys were doing pretty well at looking  
ridiculous all on your own."

"Oh? Is that so?" bristled Marcus, one of the  
guards who had had his fight night interrupted.  
"Why don't we show little miss cat-burglar here  
the way we really do things around here."

Dean smirked maliciously and gestured to his  
friends. "Whaddya think, boys?"

Tom, impatient with all the talking, needed no  
further encouragement. He lunged at her,  
swinging with his large fists. But Serena was  
ready for him. She merely ducked under his  
bludgeoning strikes and grabbed his  
outstretched arm. Using his own forward  
momentum and placing another hand in the  
small of his back, she delivered in a well-  
placed shove. He stumbled out of control into  
one of his buddies, knocking them both to the  
floor. They struggled to get up.

"Is that all you've got?" said Serena with a  
grim sort of composure.

As if her words were a signal, the rest of the  
guards began to attack. Serena dodged a flurry  
of punches and kicks, stomping hard on one  
man's instep and kneeing another in the groin.

The guards were angry and violent, but they  
were barely landing any punches. They all had  
martial arts training, and together they should  
have been able to take down one person. But  
they were singularly incapable of working  
together. Mostly they succeeded only in  
getting in each other's way. With the way fists  
and feet were flying, they hit one another as  
often as they managed to hit Serena.

Tom was on the receiving end of the worst of  
the injuries as he came back at her again and  
again, determined to make her pay for his  
indignity. Even after she launched a painful  
haymaker at him, his ego just wouldn't let him  
quit.

He surprised her by recovering quickly and  
striking out at her midsection. Caught  
unprepared for the blow, Serena's breath  
whooshed out from her lungs and she  
staggered backwards into another guard  
who grabbed her in a bear hug from behind.  
She struggled like a wild animal in a trap,  
while the remaining guards began to close  
in upon her.

Despite his serious injuries, Tom had a nasty  
smile on his bruised and bloodied face. The  
almost maniacal glint in his swollen eyes was  
enough to make Serena's blood chill. She  
kicked out at him, but Tom merely grabbed  
hold of one of her feet, trapping her further.

Just as they were about to make things really  
painful for her, she managed to free her leg  
and was able to get some leverage on the  
guard holding her. Using his weight against  
him, she flipped him over her shoulder and  
forward into Tom. Both went down hard.  
Serena, getting her second wind, turned to  
face the remaining guards with a determination  
spurred on by that moment of fear.

Unfortunately for Tom's injured pride, he  
was out cold again, this time suffering from a  
cracked rib, blackened eyes, and another  
concussive hit to the head. He wasn't alone  
there for long. One by one, his friends soon  
joined him, each succumbing to Serena's  
intensity. In minutes, all of the guards lay  
groaning around her on the mat, each doubled  
over in various states of pain and  
unconsciousness.

Serena glanced at the circle of destruction  
around her and felt a sense of satisfaction. It  
was gratifying to know that she hadn't lost her  
edge as a result of her reduced level of training  
since leaving the Project complex.

"Ah," she sighed, stretching her muscles. "That  
felt good." But even as she strode easily out of  
the gym without a backward glance, she worried  
about the potential fallout from the incident.

* * *

Lita pulled the key from under the mat and  
opened the door to Serena's loft apartment. She  
hoped her friend's business trip was going well.  
Wandering unhurriedly into the kitchen, she  
found an empty pitcher from the cupboards.  
She filled it with water and made her way  
around the loft to water the plants. 

Serena's apartment was decorated with simple  
but inspired designs. The cozy and sometimes  
outrageous combinations never failed to impress  
her. On the surface, none of the furniture  
matched, but somehow, Serena's innovative  
decorating managed to work, creating a homey  
feel.

'Serena is so together.' Lita sighed. 'I'm just a  
mess.'

Charles had dumped her last night.

Just thinking about it made her chest ache. Her  
head was still pounding from the after-effects of  
a night spent in tears. Recalling his hurtful words,  
Lita resisted the urge to cry again. Crying would  
only make her feel worse. She felt like crawling  
back into bed and devouring a pint of ice cream.  
Only her promise to Serena that she would  
check on the apartment had dragged her out of  
her own.

She just couldn't figure out her own life. Her  
relationship track record was less than stellar.  
Things would start out great; the excitement  
and anticipation of the early stages of dating  
were always so intoxicating. Why did it  
continually go wrong?

Lita had thought that Charles would be the  
one to break her bad record. She had begun  
to believe that he truly loved her, but he had  
turned out to be just another dashed hope in  
a long line of broken promises. Broken  
promises and broken hearts.

So now she was alone again, and she felt so  
very empty.

What was wrong with her? Was she so  
undesirable that no one wanted her?

Lita couldn't answer these questions.

If only Serena were here. Serena had talked  
her through her last breakup and could help  
her to understand this one. Serena would  
know what to do. She always did. If only  
she were here now.

Lita wished that Serena's business in Vancouver  
would be completed quickly so that her friend  
would come home soon.

* * *

Serena stood impassively behind Cheng in his  
home office, a silent statue as she watched a  
warehouse employee beg and grovel. He was  
a portly man whose head somehow looked  
too small for his body. There was something  
almost childlike in his appearance, and that  
made his pleas seem even more pathetic.

"Please, Mr. Cheng! I'm really sorry. It was  
a mistake. It'll never happen again, I swear!"

Serena struggled to hide her pity and  
compassion for the man who fell prostrate  
and trembling before Cheng.

"I-I've got a family, sir. I'm begging you, please..."

"You should have thought of that before you  
decided to steal from me, Jones," Cheng replied  
icily. "Did you think I wouldn't find out? You've  
betrayed my trust. Now tell me, what I should  
do with traitors?"

Jones flinched as if Cheng's voice literally cut  
him. "I'm so sorry! My daughter needed a musical  
instrument for her school band class, and I couldn't  
afford one. Please! Have mercy!"

"Alright, Jones." Cheng's voice seemed to soften  
for a moment. "Take him away." He gestured to  
Marcus, who hauled the poor man to his feet and  
dragged him out the door.

"Oh, thank you, sir! Thank you! You won't  
regret it, I swear!" cried Jones, weeping even  
harder now at the prospect of his release.

As soon as Jones was out of the room, Cheng  
turned calmly to Dean and said, "Make sure his  
body's never found."

Dean came to attention and followed the others out.

Serena was hard put to go on standing there without  
reacting or saying anything in the face of Cheng's  
cruelty. Something of her thoughts must have  
appeared on her face because Cheng paused and  
studied her for a few seconds before saying, "If I  
don't make an example of him, my bosses will find  
out and take care of it themselves. Jones' whole  
family would have been slaughtered outright. The  
Triad doesn't tolerate traitors."

He looked away towards the bright windows.  
"Sometimes we all have to do things we don't  
want to. And sometimes, death can be a mercy."

With that, Cheng turned back to his work.

* * *

Serena was looking forward to a good soak in a  
warm bath. She was exhausted both mentally and  
physically. She still wasn't sure that Cheng had done  
the right thing in Jones' case, but after a long day's  
work inspecting the house and grounds inch by inch  
working on no sleep whatsoever, not to mention the  
jetlag and her not-so-little workout that morning, she  
was ashamed to admit that she didn't have the  
energy to care all that much. She was just about  
ready to drop.

Throughout the rest of the day, Dean had  
grudgingly shown her around the house, allowing  
her to familiarize herself with Cheng's home, which  
seemed larger that it had on the blueprints she had  
studied with Amara.

During the tour, Serena had hardly seen hide or hair  
of the other guards. It was almost humorous they  
way the rest of the guards had made themselves  
scarce after dispatching with Jones. Perhaps they  
were still nursing their wounds. Or perhaps, as  
Serena liked to think, they were afraid of her. If so,  
it would make her job a lot easier.

Her first task would be to firm up the security  
measures around the house. Needless to say, she  
was going to use the opportunity to give herself an  
escape route should such a measure ever become  
necessary. It had also given her the perfect excuse  
to do a little snooping as well. She had made note  
of a few likely places to search later. The sooner  
she had the information the Project wanted, the  
sooner she could get out of this uncomfortable  
situation and go home.

Other than putting alarms around the skylights  
and windows, Serena planned to have cameras  
installed around the outside of the building. This  
would save manpower and was much more  
efficient. Incidentally, it would also be much  
easier to tap into, evade, or shut down should  
someone want to do so. Once she held the  
electronic "keys" to the video surveillance feeds  
and alarms, she would all but own the compound.

It had taken all day, but now she was ready to  
draw up the plans for the new security features.

She was eagerly heading through the house to  
her room when she heard the faint sound of music  
being played. She traced the soft sounds, following  
the lilting tune to a cozy outdoor alcove built into  
the back of the house. Serena stopped next to the  
open French doors that led out to the patio and  
the alcove.

More clearly now, she could hear the beautiful  
tune that was being played on what sounded  
like a set of pipes or a flute from the other side  
of the doorway. It just didn't feel right to  
interrupt the unknown musician, so she  
continued to stand hidden next to the open  
doors, just listening.

Who could it be? She knew that all of the  
guards were off-duty tonight, but none of  
them had seemed the type to enjoy  
instrumental music. And she hadn't pictured a  
man like Cheng being interested in  
something as sensitive and emotional as  
the tune that drifted through the patio door.

The melody was simple but intense, both haunting  
and memorable. The subtle counterpoint hinted at  
some inner sadness that still affected the musician,  
and yet it was hopeful too.

When the piece ended, Serena sighed in  
appreciation. The sound must have carried  
because a voice from outside called an invitation.

"Please, join me."

Serena stepped cautiously through the doorway.  
Out of the darkness of the night, she saw Cheng  
sitting alone on a rough stone bench in front of a  
crackling fire. The moonlight and the outdoor  
fireplace provided the only illumination. She was  
drawn magnetically closer to his fireside seat by  
the power of the poetic picture he made. It was  
almost too beautiful.

He was dressed in midnight blue from head to  
toe. A flute rested reverently in his hands. The  
firelight reflected off the shiny silver and gave the  
flute an orange glow.

"Serena," he breathed softly, seeming to come  
out of a trance-like state of pensive absorption.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Cheng. I didn't mean to  
eavesdrop."

Instinctively, they spoke in low tones, their  
voices muted. The moment demanded it.

"Not at all. I enjoy having an audience."

Serena smiled tentatively. "I didn't know that  
you played the flute." It was strange to realize  
that this was the same person who the Project  
knew was laundering money for the Triad.  
How did such a bad person make such  
beautiful music? She wondered.

"Yes, I learned it as a child. At the time, I  
hated the lessons my parents forced upon  
me, but now... I find a curious relief in my music."

"I know what you mean. Music can be such  
a release."

But what could have caused the melancholy she  
had heard in his music? Serena couldn't help  
wondering what event in his past had marked  
him with tragedy. She wanted to ask him, but  
couldn't. This was personal. Too personal. She  
had to remember that she was on a mission.  
She wasn't here to make friends. And besides,  
this was Cheng - the person whose illegal  
activities the Project wanted to stop. Only this  
morning she had witnessed an instance of his  
brutality. How could she possibly be friends  
with someone like that? It was too ridiculous to  
even imagine. But still, she was curious.

As if uncomfortable with the dangerous direction  
their conversation was headed, Cheng shifted  
gears. "And how are you settling in here? Are  
you having any problems?"

Serena thought back to the incident that morning  
in the gym. Reflecting on her otherwise chilly  
reception, she said wryly, "As much as can be  
expected."

"You'll let me know, of course, if there's anything  
I can do?"

"Thank you. I will."

Cheng nodded absently in response. He seemed  
distracted by his own thoughts.

The conversation came to a standstill. Neither  
spoke for several minutes, but the moment  
didn't feel the least bit awkward. The silence  
was intuitive and heavy with unspoken meaning.  
It seemed completely natural when, instead of  
speaking again, Cheng lifted the flute to his  
sensual mouth and began a new refrain, this one  
as poignant as the last. The quiet of the night  
and the notes of music formed its own dialogue.

Serena closed her eyes dreamily.

She was so spellbound by the music that she  
almost didn't hear the snapping of a twig from  
the nearby woods. Immediately, she became  
alert and opened her eyes. She peered into the  
darkness beyond the patio, but the firelight had  
destroyed her night vision.

Something of her change in mood must have  
conveyed itself to Cheng because he stopped  
playing abruptly and stared at her, a question  
in his eyes. She shook her head wordlessly  
and motioned him back toward the open doors.  
Serena stood up and stepped in front of him,  
hopefully blocking any lines of fire.

Over the crackling of the fireplace, Serena could  
hear the noise of someone approaching. From  
the sound of it, there was just one person, and  
he or she wasn't making any effort to hide their  
advance.

Could it be one of the off-duty guards? She  
couldn't be sure. Now drawing the weapon she  
always carried, she retreated backwards, step  
by step, still staying between Cheng and whoever  
or whatever was out there.

They were standing in the open doorway when a  
shadowed figure emerged from the tree-line. It  
strode confidently towards them, quickly closing  
the distance between them. Serena still couldn't  
make out who it was and wasn't about to shoot  
until she knew for sure.

As the dark figure came closer and closer, she  
could tell that it was a man. It wasn't one of the  
guards, but he seemed to know where he was  
going.

Serena asked Cheng over her shoulder, "Do you  
know this guy?"

"No." Cheng's voice was guarded, but Serena  
thought his reply sounded slightly puzzled.

With that in mind, Serena called to the  
approaching stranger. "Stop where you are,"  
she commanded.

The man didn't seem to hear or heed her  
words, so she pointed her gun at him and  
injected some steel into her voice. "That's  
far enough."

He finally stopped. He was only a few short  
feet away. With Cheng still standing behind  
her, Serena began to feel more nervous.

The man spoke for the first time. "I have a  
message for Mr. Cheng."

Before she could stop him, Cheng came to  
stand next to her. "What is it?"

"With love, from Ann," the man said.

Serena was puzzled. Who was Ann? What  
the heck did that message mean?

She didn't have to wonder long.

The man drew a gun from behind him and  
aimed at Cheng.

With one arm, Serena pushed Cheng down  
and into the house behind her, causing the  
assassin's first shot to miss. With her other  
hand, she cocked the hammer on her own gun  
and aimed for the assailant's x-ring in one fluid  
motion, even as the assassin was moving  
around her to get a clear shot at Cheng. But  
for a fraction of a second before depressing  
the trigger, Serena hesitated.

She had the assassin clearly in her sights, and  
she knew that she would have no problems  
hitting her target at this distance. But still she  
hesitated. She suddenly recalled the image of  
the dead Lita from her dream.

Could she do this? Could she end another  
life? What about her vow? Could she stay true  
to her promise not to kill unless it was  
absolutely necessary? Who was she really  
protecting anyway? Didn't Cheng deserve to  
be punished for the bad things he did? Shouldn't  
he be stopped? Why wasn't the assassin aiming  
at her? If she were out of the way, he could kill  
Cheng much more easily. The irrelevant  
thoughts flashed on and off in her mind like  
strobe lights.

But before she could come up with the answer  
to any of her questions, she was forced to act.  
In the brief second during which the mental  
analysis had occurred, the man had positioned  
himself with a clear shot at Cheng, and now  
Serena saw him raise his arm to aim his own  
weapon.

Later, she would never remember making a  
conscious decision. Acting purely on instinct,  
she lowered her aim to target the assailant's  
thigh. Her body moved mechanically, and her  
finger closed upon the trigger.

The sound of the gunshot rang through the night,  
echoing off the nearby mountains.

She continued tracking her target in her gun  
sights even as she watched the impact of her  
first round jerk his body abruptly before he  
stumbled and fell to the ground.

By now, Cheng was safe inside the house, and  
the other guards would soon be on the scene.  
Serena got up slowly and took a step towards  
the fallen assassin, still keeping her gun aimed  
at the man now lying crumpled on the ground.  
She knew he was still alive. She had seen his leg  
go out from underneath him before he fell and  
had known that her aim was true. As she took  
another step toward him, not sure if he was still  
a threat, her mind wondered at what she had  
done.

She had been taught to kill. All her training  
dictated that if someone was going to fire at you,  
it had to be you or that person. Kill or be killed.  
There was no time for debate. There was no  
room for reason or compassion and certainly no  
room for mistakes. She thought she had been  
acting on instinct, falling back on her training.  
But if that were true, why had she aimed for the  
thigh, a much more difficult shot?

Serena was just a step away when she saw the  
attacker reach for his gun. Her own weapon  
was still trained on him, but something prevented  
her from firing. She felt her first flash of fear as  
he rose unsteadily and brought his gun up again,  
but he wasn't aiming it at her. Instead, he aimed  
it at his own head.

Before she could do more than shout, "NO!"  
he had fired.

For the third time that night, the sound of a  
gunshot echoed loudly in the air. He fell  
backward slowly. His gun arm now dropped  
limply to his side, the gun clattering noisily to  
the ground.

He was dead.

Serena was still standing over his body,  
wondering what had gone wrong, when Dean  
and two others reached her. Cheng had taken  
one look at the body and gone immediately to  
his room, locking himself in.

"He's dead," she told the guards unnecessarily.  
Her voice sounded peculiar to herself. It had a  
strange flatness that was devoid of emotion.

Dean bent to examine the body while another  
guard went to retrieve the attacker's gun from  
where she had kicked it as a safety precaution.  
There was nothing recognizable left of the face.  
Serena forced herself not to turn away from the  
sight of it, imprinting the gory image on her  
memory. Dean and the third guard frisked the  
body callously. Dean gave a shout of recognition  
when he lifted the black sleeve to reveal a  
distinctive tattoo.

"The Dragons!" he exclaimed.

Clearly detailed above the assassin's wrist was  
an unusual tattoo of a dragon, its green scales  
gleaming as it coiled up the dead man's arm.  
Serena didn't know what it meant, but obviously  
Cheng's guards did because they looked at each  
other with fear in their eyes.

Choking past the knot in her own throat, Serena  
said, "I take it that's not good news."

* * *

Later that night, Serena sat alone in the dark,  
thinking about her actions. She had called Amara  
and reported more or less what had happened,  
but Amara seemed to take it all in stride. The  
instructor had merely logged the report and  
promised to do some research on both Ann and  
the Dragons. She seemed to think that everything  
was as it should be, that Serena had done nothing  
wrong.

But Serena couldn't bring herself to feel the same  
way. She hadn't told Amara about her hesitation,  
knowing that it would get back to the Project, but  
that didn't help her resolve her feelings.

She still couldn't understand what had stopped  
her from shooting him. Why had she acted  
contrary to her training? Could it be that her vow  
was affecting her judgment?

It had certainly caused her to hesitate at a moment  
when that hesitation could have killed her. If that  
assassin hadn't been so intent on killing Cheng to  
the exclusion of all others, she would most definitely  
be dead right now. Not only could her hesitation  
have killed her, but it could also have killed Cheng,  
and it would have burned her mission.

What was wrong with her? Why couldn't she do  
what seemed to come so easily to others?

A part of her still felt that allowing the assassin to  
kill his target would have been a simple solution to  
her problems. If Cheng was dead, she wouldn't  
have had to shoot the assassin. She wouldn't even  
have to continue her mission. And didn't Cheng  
deserve to die? But while her mind answered  
resolutely, "yes," she couldn't help but recall the  
way he had looked half-hidden in the shadows from  
the firelight, the flute to his lips, and that beautiful,  
beautiful music. She just didn't understand it.

Even more, she couldn't understand why the  
assassin had turned the gun on himself. What was  
so bad that death was the only alternative? Serena  
would never forget the way he had taken his own  
life the violent jerk of the body, the explosion that  
shot out from the back of his head, the eyes rolling  
back, and the blood. Oh, my god, the blood.

She shuddered at the memory. In that moment of  
death, even as she watched the life pour from his  
demolished body, she had felt glad. Glad and  
relieved that she was still alive. Did that make her  
a bad person?

Serena stared into the darkness without finding any  
answers, and sleep was more elusive than ever.

* * *

Seiya no longer had problems sleeping.

In the weeks following Serena's completion of  
training, sleep had continued to be elusive as he  
grappled with the events on the night of Serena's  
last test. He had gone over what had happened  
many times in his head, and had finally concluded  
that there was little he could have done differently  
under the circumstances.

His years spent in service to the Project had  
changed him. It was hard to say what was right  
and what was wrong anymore. He, like everyone  
else in the Project, was restricted by his devotion  
to duty. Expediency became the name of the game,  
and only by keeping his eyes fixed on the goals of  
the Project and his heart locked in the deepest,  
darkest chamber of his body was he able to wade  
through the moral quagmire and ethical morass that  
surrounded him. There was simply no room in his  
life for second guessing or questioning orders.

Serena had come into that world like a tornado,  
bringing chaos to what had been ordered in his  
mind and shaking him around until he didn't know  
which way was up or down. She had touched a  
part of him so rusty with disuse that it was rather  
more pain than pleasure he felt with its revival she  
had resuscitated his heart. And now that it was  
alive, beating, and capable of feeling again, Serena  
had left to go on her first mission.

It was a difficult mission, one fraught with dangers  
and pitfalls of which Serena wasn't even aware yet.  
Seeing her at her mission briefing for the first time  
in two months had been a pang.

Even thinking about it now made his heart ache to  
remember that he had helped send her out on this  
mission without telling her the truth about Cheng,  
but again he had had no choice. Luna's instructions  
had been specific.

It was a strange paradox that one as powerful as he  
should feel so powerless.

The Project was his life, and nothing he could do  
would change that. He wasn't even sure he wanted  
it to change. Serena would simply have to succeed  
or fail on her own, as all agents did eventually.

With that realization had come acceptance, and with  
acceptance came a curious sense of peace. Gradually,  
Seiya was able to return to his routine and turn his  
attention back to the matters which had occupied him  
before he had ever met a girl named Serena.

* * *

The next day was a bad one for everyone. It was  
obvious from the tense demeanors and grumpy  
backtalk that no one had gotten much sleep the night  
before, and consequently everyone was in a bad  
mood. There were a lot of short tempers and hostile  
glares, and two arguments that had almost resulted in  
the guards coming to blows.

When Cheng finally emerged from within his locked  
room, it was evident that his night had been even  
worse. From the dark circles under his eyes, Serena  
wondered if he had slept at all. She certainly hadn't.

And the sleep deprivation of the past few days was  
finally catching up with her, preventing her from being  
able to think properly. Her inability to concentrate was  
keeping her from fully understanding what was going  
on around her. To all appearances, it was business as  
usual. Someone had cleaned up the mess in the  
backyard during the night. Serena didn't even want to  
know what they had done with the body. Later that  
day, she was to accompany Dean and the others to  
inspect a hotel ballroom, the location of the charity gala  
Cheng was throwing in a month.

Even though everyone avoided making direct references  
to the assassin, there was something going on that Serena  
couldn't quite grasp. She was sure it all had something to  
do with the fearful "Dragons" and the mystery woman,  
Ann. Serena observed covert glances between the other  
guards and half-spoken implications, but she couldn't  
make sense of any of it.

When Dean had informed Cheng of the dragon tattoo  
on the assassin, he had only muttered darkly to himself,  
"That little fool. What is she playing at?" refusing to  
say any more on the subject.

If only Serena had been able to sleep last night, instead  
of tormenting herself over what she ought to have  
done, she might now be able to understand what all  
this was leading to. Serena was sure that it was  
something important, something related to what the  
Project wanted to know. It was frustrating to the  
extreme.

There was one upside to the assassin's attack,  
however. By saving Cheng's life, she had gained the  
trust of his guards. She was favored with frequent  
looks of grudging respect and deference from  
everyone except Dean. Even Cheng, himself, seemed  
to trust her more. He had assigned her to be his  
permanent shadow, which would give her a closer  
view of the way he conducted business - just what  
she needed to accomplish her mission that much  
sooner.

* * *

She accompanied Cheng to his main office the next  
day. He was still acting rather coldly towards  
everyone. Serena thought that it was probably just  
his reserved nature, that he was, in his own way,  
trying to come to grips with his feelings. Perhaps the  
incident with the assassin had unnerved him. It  
certainly had for Serena.

Cheng's office was on the twelfth floor of a tall glass  
building in the center of town. It was elegant in an  
understated way. Clearly, Cheng's banking business  
was operating well into the black, but that probably  
wasn't all that difficult when one had the backing of  
the Triad.

As they made their way through the office, Serena  
discovered that Cheng didn't work alone. Along  
with a friendly receptionist and a handful of well-  
dressed secretaries, Cheng managed four tax and  
real-estate lawyers, six investment bankers, and  
three stock researchers. Serena was introduced  
around, and as she shook hands with them, she  
wondered how many of them knew about Cheng's  
shady dealings.

She unobtrusively joined Cheng in his office and  
tried her best to make herself invisible even as she  
made an effort to mentally record everything she  
saw and heard.

He spent the morning making phone calls and  
reading reports. Serena saw nothing of special  
interest, and as she couldn't follow much of what  
she heard, it was sometimes a trial just to stay  
awake.

After lunch, he had a meeting with one of the  
investment bankers. They were discussing a loan  
they had made to a small start-up company that  
had recently gone public, when Serena began to  
find herself more interested.

"They recently filed their 10-K, but our research  
indicates that FluiTech's main product may be  
beaten to market by IBM, and so their stock is set  
to plunge. We have the option of calling back our  
loan now, netting us a significant profit, but we'll be  
seriously undermining the company's equity. Their  
debt-equity ratio might jump radically and plummet  
their quick ratio. It could set off a downward spiral  
for them."

"Well, that's not our problem, now is it?" Cheng  
replied frostily. "Sell all our shares, but do it  
discreetly. If they can't field a viable product, it's  
hardly our fault if the marketplace forces them out."

Serena didn't know a whole lot about economics  
and business, but she wasn't surprised that someone  
like Cheng would take such a hard line. Working for  
the Triad must have given him a slightly twisted  
interpretation of Smith's macro-economic theories.  
It seemed to fit the profile of someone the Project  
would keep an eye on.

Over the next week, Serena confirmed that this  
was merely the normal practice for Cheng. She  
witnessed the almost vicious brutality with which he  
dealt with competitors. He gave no quarter when it  
came to out-maneuvering and out-bidding others.  
He bartered, he cajoled, he threatened, but the  
bottom line was, he got what he wanted.

His complete callousness towards those who were  
in his way was an eye-opener. It was as if they were  
no longer people but mere objects obstructions that  
had to be removed. He reminded Serena a lot of  
Seiya in his sometimes-casual disregard for others.

What was so shocking about this was not the  
pitilessness in itself she had had plenty of experience  
with that in the Project but it was the contrast between  
this behavior and the incredibly insightful sensitivity of  
his music. Cheng was a study in contradictions. Serena  
had yet to make heads or tails of him, but he was  
certainly magnetic. She wanted to know what he really  
thought, what made him tick. She was determined to  
find out.

* * *

One night a few days later, Serena found Cheng sitting  
once more in the outdoor alcove with his flute. This  
time, he wasn't playing, but merely holding the flute in  
his hands and absently pressing the keys. There was no  
fire in the fireplace, as it was getting too warm for it.  
She hesitated for a moment before joining him.

"Mr. Cheng?"

"Please, Serena. Call me Alan."

"Alan," she said shyly. Somehow, it felt uncomfortable.  
With everything that had happened in the last few days,  
Serena no longer knew how to act around Alan. She  
had seen such different sides of him that she didn't  
know what to think anymore.

As Serena learned more about Alan, she was  
surprised to find that she grew to like him more and  
more. The problem was, she didn't want to like him.  
She was here on a mission, and getting emotionally  
attached to her target could only be trouble. But in  
spite of herself, she did like him. A lot.

She followed him to work every day and watched  
as he organized and managed and generally made  
a success of his company. She admired his  
business instincts and the way he dealt aggressively  
with the problems, even if she sometimes questioned  
his methods.

Serena knew that Alan was involved in some illegal  
activities, and had even seen part of his smuggling  
operation and witnessed a few shady deals. But  
how could someone who played such beautiful  
music be involved in anything truly sinister? Maybe  
the Project was wrong about Alan. Maybe they  
had made a mistake.

Thus far, Serena had failed to discover anything  
really incriminating on Alan that the Project didn't  
already know. Nothing more was said about Ann  
or the "Dragons," and try as she might, she couldn't  
find out any more about them either.

Alan had been splitting his time between his office  
and his home, where he worked mostly on the new  
charity foundation he was chairing. From what she  
had been able to discover, the charity foundation  
was the only new project of Alan's, but it didn't  
seem to be the kind of thing the Project was  
looking for.

In fact, when she thought of the new charity that  
was taking up so much of Alan's time now, it was  
all but impossible to believe that he was capable of  
anything truly evil. Serena had watched, fascinated,  
for the last week as Alan had personally addressed  
the details of its operation. It only made her admire  
him more.

This was especially true since the charity touched  
on a cause very dear to her own heart. The Cheng  
Foundation was going to help homeless children get  
off the streets and into a stable environment. Set up  
in the Chinatown building Serena had scouted with  
Amara, the charity would be a kind of walk-in centre  
where young runaways could stay for a few nights.  
They would be provided with food, clothing, and  
shelter, after which they could enter the program that  
matched them up with a new home when they were  
ready.

Serena couldn't help but wonder how her own life  
would have been different if someone had been there  
to help her off the streets. She might never have  
joined Project Eleven, might never have experienced  
the horrors of her graduation night. It was a very  
encouraging thought.

Even more encouraging was the devotion with which  
Alan had thrown himself into his charity work. The  
past two days had been especially hectic as Alan had  
worked tirelessly to complete the setups before the  
clinic's grand opening, scheduled for the following  
week. She couldn't help but respect his dedication to  
this endeavor. Surely the Project was mistaken about  
someone who gave so selflessly to others?

He worked so hard, but Serena could tell that  
something was bothering him. Already, he was much  
thinner than when she had first met him. He looked  
even more ephemeral than before. Something serious  
was weighing him down, and it was taking its toll. She  
wondered what it could be.

She studied him from the corners of her eyes,  
watching as he continued to restlessly finger the  
keys of his flute. In spite of the blatant agitation in his  
fingering, there was that ever-present gracefulness  
about his motions. His hands moved with a fluidity  
that Serena had come to see as part of Alan's  
inherently ephemeral character.

"Alan, is something the matter?"

There was a long pause before he reluctantly  
admitted, "I guess I'm still upset about that assassin..."

Relieved, Serena replied, "That's normal. It's not  
something you can easily brush off."

"It should be, given who I work for."

Serena could find nothing to say in response. They  
sat in silence for a while, both staring at ashes in the  
cold fireplace, both seemingly struggling with their  
own thoughts.

"Have you ever had to do that before?" Alan asked  
suddenly.

"Do what?"

"Kill someone."

A picture of the arms dealer slumping onto the table  
flashed through Serena's mind. Her voice was almost  
inaudible when she whispered the word, "Yes."

Alan turned to look at her more closely, while she  
continued to stare at the fireplace. After studying her  
for a few minutes, he said, "You don't seem like the  
kind of person who... enjoys that sort of thing."

"No."

"So how did you get involved with all this stuff?" His  
voice sounded puzzled and gently curious.

Serena knew she couldn't tell him the whole truth.  
"I never knew my parents. Never even knew who  
they were. I grew up on the streets, and when I  
became old enough, I joined a gang." But even as  
she gave him the background that the Project had  
concocted for this mission, she was tempted by the  
kindness and compassion in his eyes to reveal at  
least part of her true story.

"The first time I killed someone... It was... horrible."  
This at least, wasn't a lie. Just thinking about it  
brought back all the fearful emotions of that  
nightmarish night. Her throat started to close, and  
she couldn't get out another word. She shuddered  
convulsively.

Alan seemed to understand.

He nodded slowly, closing his eyes. Silence  
descended upon them again.

Finally, when Serena had recovered partially, she  
glanced at Alan. Her heart began to throb.

He really did understand. Somehow, he had  
known that she needed time and space. He  
hadn't prodded her with new questions, prying  
callously into her feelings. She was surprised  
by how well he seemed to know her. Even  
before, he had sensed that the incident with the  
assassin had bothered her as much as it had him.  
After the comfortable silence had lengthened,  
Serena found the courage to ask the questions  
that had been preying upon her since meeting  
and getting to know Alan, forgetting that she  
wasn't supposed to get personal. "What about  
you? How did you get started?"

"It's funny. I was just thinking about that before  
you came out here. How did I get myself into this?

"My parents were just factory workers in China.  
We didn't have a lot of money, and most of what  
we did have was routinely taken by the government  
in taxes. I remember that my parents scrimped and  
saved every penny to be able to give me music  
lessons. We couldn't really afford them, but they  
always said that they wanted me to be more, to do  
more than they did. They were trying to make my  
life better. They dreamed of my success.

"But right from the start, I hated it. I thought it was  
stupid to be spending money on music when we  
were practically going hungry. What good was  
music? It wouldn't put food in our mouths or pay  
the bills. I didn't understand.

"Then, one day, my dad said the wrong thing to the  
wrong person and he and my mother were hauled  
off to the state prison as political insurgents. Even in  
those days, it was dangerous to criticize anything the  
communist government did. They died in a labor  
camp a year later. I was fourteen." Alan stopped to  
take a deep breath before continuing.

"So there I was, virtually still a child, with nowhere  
to go and no way to support myself. With my  
parents branded as traitors to the state, no one  
wanted to get too close to me and be tarred with  
the same brush. Things looked pretty bleak for a  
while.

"But I was lucky. The owner of the factory where  
my parents worked took me in. His wife had died  
young, leaving him without children, so he was glad  
to have me. He didn't care about politics. He just  
wanted to pass on his business to someone. I don't  
think he ever loved me, but it didn't really matter. I  
wasn't his son.

"As it turned out, he was a small-time operator for  
one of the big crime families in Hong Kong. And by  
that time, I was sick of being poor and hungry. He  
saw that I had a gift for business and taught me  
everything about his operation. Soon, I was finding  
ways to make it more efficient. I doubled the  
company's profits in six months, and doubled it again  
within the next year. But it wasn't enough for me.

"By the time I was seventeen, I had come to the  
attention of one of the big players in the Triad. They  
put me through university and gave me control of a  
small corporation. And I've been working for the  
'family' ever since.

"You'll probably think this is strange, but all I ever  
wanted was to be a simple businessman, to have  
enough money that I would never have to worry  
about going hungry again, and to be more than just  
some factory worker. I owe the 'family' my loyalty  
for giving me my start, so I help them out with a few  
things here and there. But it's not me.

"I wish ... I wish I could call it quits, give all this  
nonsense up, but once you're in... there's no way  
out."

'Sounds familiar,' Serena thought sympathetically. It  
really was an incredible story. Now she knew the  
source of the sadness in his music. She felt so much  
closer to him as a result. She couldn't help but respect  
how far Alan had come from the tragedy that had  
marred his early life.

"So," Alan finished wryly, "In a way, that's why I'm  
working so hard on this charity. It's my chance to  
give back, to make amends for the things I've had to  
do to survive. Pretty selfish of me isn't it?"

"Oh no, Alan. I think it's wonderful."

"Thanks, Serena. And thanks for listening."

* * *

On her way to Alan's office in response to his  
summons one night, Serena paused outside the office  
doors when she heard yelling from within. Pressing  
her ear to the door, she listened to the end of the  
conversation.

"... had enough of your stupid excuses! I don't give a  
damn what you have to do to get that ship to the  
dock on time. I want it ready to receive the cargo on  
the 21st, do you hear me?"

Dismissing it as yet another business matter, Serena  
opened the door and walked in.

"Well, FIX IT!"

She waited until he had slammed down the phone  
before speaking. "What was that all about? Anything  
I can help with?" "Oh, that. That was just the limo  
service for the gala. Those idiots accidentally  
overbooked for that night, so we'll have to drive  
ourselves," said Alan, causing Serena to blink in  
surprise. "But there is something you can help me  
with."

A small flag went up in Serena's mind, even as  
she maintained a pleasantly disinterested demeanor.  
'Why did he lie? What was that about? Was this  
important? Something about a shipment? Did this  
have anything to do with her mission?' She felt a little  
hurt at the knowledge that he was hiding something  
from her. And there was definitely a reason why he  
didn't want her to know the truth. He had lied so  
easily, but maybe that wasn't significant. Making a  
note to investigate it later, she calmly replied, "Sure.  
What is it?"

"My date for the Gala cancelled on me at the last  
minute, and I was hoping you would fill in for me. I  
know it's short notice, but since you'll be there  
anyway, what better security could I have than my  
bodyguard as my date?"

Serena was both surprised and flattered, momentarily  
forgetting her suspicions. "Oh! Well, I don't know if  
I should..."

"Please, Serena. You would be doing me a huge  
favor. You wouldn't want the guest of honor to go  
stag, now would you?"

Serena made one more token protest. "But I don't  
have a dress."

"No problem. Why don't you take tomorrow off and  
go shopping. It's on me.

"Well, if you insist..."

"I do. And thank you, Serena. You've saved me again."

At those words, Serena couldn't help but feel a curious  
pain in her chest. She had saved him once, but he had  
no idea that she was really a spy. He trusted her, and  
here she was, betraying that trust in the most terrible  
way. Her conscience was screaming at her to come  
clean with him, but there was something that held her  
back. She still hadn't found out what the Project was  
looking for, nor had she figured out who Ann was.  
And Alan, himself, had just lied to her.

She tried to justify all this to herself.

But the pain in her chest wouldn't go away.

* * *

The next day, Serena wandered down crowded  
Robson Street, looking for the perfect dress to wear  
to the Gala the next day. She wanted to look beautiful  
for Alan. Normally, she wore comfortable clothes  
around the house like jogging suits or conservative  
pantsuits when she accompanied him to the office -  
clothes that would allow her to move freely in the  
event of an attack. He had never seen her in a dress  
before, and she wanted to impress him.

Serena couldn't help but feel excited that he had asked  
her to attend the Gala, and not just as a bodyguard.  
She had never been to such a formal party before,  
and from what he had spent on this one, it was bound  
to be a beautiful event. The Mayor and many of the  
city's foremost dignitaries would be attending.

As she stopped to look at a window display, Serena  
suddenly noticed a head of dusty blonde hair in the  
reflection. It looked awfully familiar, but she couldn't  
immediately place it.

Experimentally, she moved down the street and  
watched as the blond hair followed her. Finally  
realizing where she had seen that ultra-short haircut  
before, she turned into the next shop and waited for  
the blonde to follow.

Serena browsed through a nearby rack while she  
waited. She didn't have to wait long. The blonde  
came to stand next to her and spoke while they both  
pretend to look at the clothes.

"Jesus, Serena! I thought I'd never get in touch with  
you!"

"Sorry, Amara. I haven't been checking in with you,  
but they've got me so busy that I haven't been able  
to get away for even a moment. There are usually at  
least two other guards around all the time. This is the  
first time I've been alone all week."

"Well, alright," Amara grudgingly allowed. "Just tell me  
you've found out something important."

Serena winced. "I've tried, Amara. Honestly, I have.  
I've looked everywhere. He must be keeping the  
important files on his personal computer at home, but  
it's got so much security that we'd need Amy to break  
it."

"Hmm. I think we can manage that."

"What?" They weren't thinking about sending Amy  
over to help were they?

"I'll just let the Project know what we need, and they'll  
send us a virus Amy designed that can hack into any  
computer system known to man. Trust me. I've seen it  
work before. Amy's the best. All we have to do is  
upload the virus directly onto Cheng's computer. Can  
you do it?"

Serena thought about it for a moment, but decided  
against doing it herself. "Listen, tomorrow night Alan  
is hosting a charity gala downtown."

Amara interrupted here with an arch look, "Oh, so it's  
Alan now, is it?"

Unaccountably, Serena blushed. "Well, what am I  
supposed to call him?" she said, trying to brazen  
her way out, but her former instructor saw right  
through her.

"Be careful, bunny. These are deep waters. I wouldn't  
want you to drown," the shorter-haired woman  
cautioned seriously.

"Don't worry. It's nothing," said Serena before rushing  
on. "Anyway, everyone will be there at the Gala, so  
that means the one guard will be watching the  
compound from the gatehouse. And you can get  
around him the same way I did. I've got the codes to  
all the security systems, so all you need to do is go in  
after we leave, upload the virus, get the files, and get  
out before the party's over."

"Tomorrow night? That's cutting it a bit close. I hope  
I'll be able to get the virus by then."

"If not, fine. I'll find some other way to get the files,  
but I'm telling you, tomorrow's our best chance."

"Okay. Sounds like a plan," Amara confirmed. "I'll  
get right on it. I'll call you if I don't get the virus in time.  
If you don't hear from me, assume that everything's  
going ahead. You'd better tell me what the codes are  
now and what time you'll be leaving for the party."

"They're sending over a car for us to use at six-thirty.  
Here, I'll write down the code sequences for you. I'm  
sure you can manage the locks by yourself"

"I'm sure I can," Amara replied with a feral grin.

Once they had exchanged the info, the two prepared  
to part ways. Just before Amara left to contact the  
Project and Serena to continue her search for the  
perfect dress, Amara stopped her former pupil and  
said, "Oh, by the way, I wasn't able to find anything  
on Ann, but I looked up the 'Dragons' for you like I  
promised."

"And?"

"They're an old organization of fanatical hitmen. Some  
kind of religious motivation. If they don't carry out the  
hit, they suicide themselves rather than get caught."

Serena's face became unreadable.

"What do you think it means?" asked Amara, watching  
her partner closely.

"I'm... not sure. I haven't figured out what the  
connection is yet between Alan and this Ann person."  
Serena thought for a minute and asked, "Do you think  
the Dragons will try again?"

"Almost certainly. Once they accept a contract, they  
don't stop until it's done. I'd be extra careful if I were  
you."

Much sobered by this revelation, Serena nodded in  
return. "Good luck."

"Back at ya, bunny."

* * *

The night of the Gala found Serena unexpectedly  
nervous. There were going to be so many important  
people attending, people she couldn't afford to offend  
for Alan's sake.

And then there was this business about the Dragons.  
The public event might be a good opportunity for  
them to strike. Serena would have to be on her guard.

She was also worried about Amara. She hadn't heard  
from her partner, so she had to assume that Amara had  
gotten the virus in time. She hoped that everything  
would go smoothly.

She nervously adjusted the tulle skirt on her dress  
before opening the door into the foyer where Alan  
was waiting. He was looking over some papers with  
his back turned towards her, giving her a chance to  
take a good look at him.

Serena had noticed that Alan tended to dress in  
monochromes and achromatic shades, favoring  
simple grays, blacks, and dark blues. Tonight was  
no exception. His suit was midnight blue with an  
Asian-style collar, but whereas his clothes were  
usually plain and simply cut, the jacket he now  
wore was decorated with silver piping and  
embroidery in designs that looked like vines  
wrapped intricately around him. For Alan, this  
was lavish embellishment. In Serena's mind, it only  
served to highlight the fey quality that naturally  
enveloped him.

She stepped into the room, her heels clicking on  
the marble floor. Hearing the sound, Alan turned,  
and his lips curved in a smile when he saw her. He  
slowly took in her appearance from head to toe,  
his eyes lighting in appreciation.

"You look lovely, Serena."

She felt herself blushing. "Thank you."

"Are you ready to go?"

Serena nodded, and he offered her his arm,  
leading her outside to the waiting car. It was  
Alan's own Audi TT Roadster. He settled her  
into the low passenger seat before going around  
to the driver's side. Dean and the other guards  
had gone ahead to help set up and greet the  
early guests.

As the sleek sports car sped downtown to the  
hotel, Alan reached across the seat and took  
Serena's hand, placing it gently on top of his on  
the gearshift. "I'm so glad you're here with me."

"Me too."

The rest of the ride passed in silence, and Alan  
continued to hold her hand gently in his.

* * *

After welcoming countless guests, Serena's  
hand was sore from all the handshakes. Some  
people just didn't realize that you weren't  
supposed to crush the bones of the hand you  
were shaking. There was such a thing as being  
too macho.

Alan turned to her after thanking the last of the  
guests for coming. "Sorry about all this. I know  
this is a pain, but I really appreciate all your help.  
You were fantastic," he said softly in her ear.

Smiling ruefully in apology, he continued, "Don't  
worry. The rest of the night will be much easier."  
He took her aching hand and massaged it gently  
in his. "Can I get you a drink? Some champagne  
to celebrate the success of my charity foundation?"

Serena shook her head. She would never forget  
the taste of champagne going sour in her mouth.  
It wasn't an experience she was eager to repeat,  
and she didn't think that she would ever come to  
enjoy the drink after what had happened the first  
time. "No thanks. I shouldn't be drinking while  
I'm working. I am supposed to be your  
bodyguard, after all. Could you get me some  
soda instead?"

"Sure, no problem. I'll be right back, my lady."  
Alan raised her hand to his lips and lightly kissed  
the back like some gallant knight.

Serena had never been kissed like that before,  
and felt her cheeks heating in a blush, something  
she seemed to be doing more and more frequently  
around Alan. It was kind of nice.

Once he had departed to locate some beverages,  
Serena walked to one of the empty tables and sat  
down wearily, relaxing. Now that the party was in  
fully swing, she figured that the chances of an attack  
by the Dragons were slim. She surveyed the  
ballroom full of chattering guests in evening dress.

Everything sparkled like magic, from the chandeliers  
and long strings of fairy lights wrapped around small  
potted trees, to the glittering jewels adorning many  
a guest - some were so predictably excessive as to  
pass far beyond the bounds of good taste.

The decorators had really done a spectacular job.  
Candles and large bouquets of tulips, irises, and  
bleeding hearts formed the centerpieces of each  
table, agreeably complementing the ivory table  
cloths. Matching ivory organza and lace slip covers  
were draped over the high-backed chairs.

Serena closed her eyes and let the music from the  
conventional band wash over her. She fell into a  
half-trance until a sharp voice interrupted her reverie.

"So you're the flavor of the month."

Serena's eyes shot open at that acerbic remark to  
find a short, red-haired woman standing in front  
of her and looking her over disdainfully. In startling  
contrast to the flame-red hair, the woman was  
wearing a sleek, form-fitting sheath in midnight blue  
that was dotted with silver sparkles. The material  
looked like it had been cut directly out of a night  
sky filled with stars. From the fashionable cut of the  
dress and the ostentatious diamonds and sapphires  
that bedecked the décolletage, Serena could tell  
that this was a wealthy woman.

"Excuse me?" Serena asked in a shocked voice,  
confused by the fact that she didn't recall seeing  
this woman among the guests she had greeted.

"You and Alan. I saw you together earlier."

"Is that so?" Serena said haughtily, feeling quite  
affronted. "And what business is that of yours?"

The redhead smiled a smile that was not at all nice.  
It was a smile that made Serena want to reach for  
her gun. "I'll only say this once: stay away from  
Alan if you know what's good for you."

"I'll do whatever I please, thank you very much."  
The nerve of this woman! Serena wondered who  
the heck she was.

The smile dropped from the woman's face, and  
she leaned in close to Serena. "You'll regret it."

"Was that a threat?" Serena's eyebrows shot up in  
incredulity. What was going on here?

The crimson-haired woman simply shrugged  
negligently and turned to leave. As she disappeared  
into the crowd on the dance floor, she tossed the  
words over her shoulder, "Only if you want it to be."

Serena sat stunned for several seconds until Alan  
appeared at her elbow, drinks in hand. Taking one  
look at the expression on her face, he said, "Ah. I  
see you've met Ann."

"That was Ann!" Serena could only stare at Alan.

"Short, red hair, bitch?"

"How did you know?

Alan looked away into the ballroom. "She's the  
only one I know capable of having that effect on  
people."

"So who is she?" Serena felt eaten alive with  
curiosity. She studied Alan closely, but he  
remained silent, steadfastly gazing in the direction  
Ann had gone. Serena said softly, "Alan, why did  
she try to kill you?"

The answer was a long time coming. "She's my  
ex-fiancé."

* * *

Next Chapter: As Alan's charity gets off the ground  
and Serena goes head-to-head with Ann, the Project  
forces Serena to make a difficult choice.

Aglaia


End file.
